Reconstruction of a Death Eater

Braving the Wrath

Hermione shivered, biting her lip worriedly. She was going to do it, even if the others thought she was mad or didn't talk to her again or .... She sighed deeply and gave herself a mental shake. What had Professor Dumbledore said in their very first year, 'it was harder to stand up to your friends than your enemies', or words to that effect anyway. If the boys caught her, they would be so disappointed and Ron would go ballistic, of course!

It wasn't as if she was consorting with the enemy or anything, they knew it was all right really and it was just a note, for goodness sake, not a criminal offence. Tightening her lip she straightened her spine decisively.

"Look out, Hermione's ready for battle," Harry teased, making her start nervously.

"Oh gosh, you scared me!" she gasped, clutching her chest to still her pounding heart.

"Sorry, didn't mean to. Are you alright?"

She sighed. "I'm fine, Harry; I just have to do something for, for Madam Pince, that's all."

"Oh? It looked as if you were going to have to walk a tightrope over a pit of alligators the way you were steeling up your nerve," he remarked, his eyes shrewd behind his glasses.

Hermione smiled ruefully, Harry had grown up considerably since the events of the last two years, his impulsiveness now tempered by analytical thought and - dare she say it - common sense. The trouble was, he was now much more perceptive and able to read the people around him and that was a little bit scary at times.

"No, nothing so dramatic," she assured him quickly.

"Humm, well, be careful, whatever it is." He half smiled at her start of surprise as he strolled off down the corridor to catch up with Ron and engage his attention.

She didn't have long to wait before the object of her mission came into sight, surrounded as usual by his little gang of minions. Seeing her alone, Parkinson whispered behind her hand and Goyle advanced even though his other bookend had stopped. Draco glanced around quickly, realised the rest of the trio were missing and realised Granger was about to get into very nasty trouble.

"Er, Goyle, did you say 'May I?'" he asked conversationally, a smirk twisting his lips. "Now, now, there is no point in having orders if you fail to obey them, and I did not give you permission to obey Pansy, now did I?" he drawled, his hulking friend stopping immediately, his face twisting horrendously as he thought about that.

"No," he managed, only a few feet from Granger who had fallen back into a defensive stance.

"Draco!" Pansy wailed in thwarted temper, her vaguely pretty face crumpling most unbecomingly, red dots of temper appearing on her cheeks. He wondered briefly if she would ignore him but then she snarled wordlessly and flounced away, choosing to ignore her quarry rather than face him.

"So much for resolve," he murmured speculatively as he watched the girl go. "Keep an eye on her, Goyle; Pansy, I mean," he clarified as the boy turned to glare at Granger. "Crabbe, you had better go with him."

Crabbe blinked then turned and followed his opposite number down the corridor, almost reluctantly leaving Granger and Draco alone in the passageway. "Fancy meeting you here," he drawled, turning to face her blandly.

"We haven't much time but you wanted to know how Professor Snape was. He's alive and moving but he has not regained his mind; a full grown baby. Arthur Weasley told us this morning when he called Ron. I just thought I'd tell you."

The bland smirk slid of Draco's face leaving a genuine expression of worry in its place. "Is there any hope, really?"

"Yes. As soon as Moon is over, Remus Lupin will have charge of him and try to break through to him. I know you don't like Remus, but he is patient and kind and a very good teacher. He also knows some of the Muggle techniques for treating mental problems, so yes, there's a good chance that Remus can get through to him."

"I hope so. I know what you think of Severus in Gryffindor, but he is always good to us in Slytherin. He looks out for us and, well, covers up for us on occasion, especially when it could cause problems for us within our families. I - look - we had better clear off or someone will spring us, and that could be a disaster. Can you meet me in the library this evening after dinner? I'll ditch my familiars, if you ditch yours?"

Hermione had to smile at the light, teasing note he had managed to inject into his voice and nodded her agreement before she could think it to death. "Behind the restricted section, there's a reading room that no one goes into these days."

"Ah! So you are the one who found it, I should have guessed," he teased lightly before strolling away arrogantly, leaving her with a wry smile on her face.

~~*~~

Ginny grinned as she took the pot and the exploding snap cards exploded. Harry shook his head and laughed at her openly gleeful pleasure at beating both him and Ron. Ron humphed in disgust, then raised an eyebrow when Hermione came down the girls' stairs carrying her bookbag.

"Where are you going?" he asked, more to avoid Ginny's eyes than from interest.

Hermione glanced up and grimaced sharply. "I plan to pass my NEWTs with the very best mark I can possibly get. To do so I am going to study all the material and all the related material that is available. I have only refrained from nagging at you two as I remember - vividly - how rude you were the last time, at OWLs."

Ron had the grace to look abashed as she strode out of the common room, letting the portrait swing shut behind her. Harry and Ginny exchanged slightly uneasy looks behind his back, then put aside their worry to continue the game. Finally, Ron wandered off to see what Dean and Seamus were up to, leaving his sister and his best friend sitting on the couch before the fire, preparing to finish their game.

Harry gnawed his lip just a little, then realised Ginny was watching him with a quirking smile that made her look unnervingly like her mother. "You didn't believe her either, did you?" he said finally, turning slightly to face her.

"Oh, she was genuinely going to the library and I expect she will be studying hard, but she's up to something else, too. Anne Peterson said she saw Hermione and Malfoy actually talking together in a corridor this morning, but then Rubeus Morgan said Parkinson and Goyle had been harassing her a few moments before that and Malfoy had sent them off. Perhaps he was just giving her the warning." Ginny looked hopefully at Harry.

"Perhaps. She didn't seem frightened or upset, did she? Just a little... brighter than usual, maybe, sort of?" Harry floundered to put his feelings and observations into words.

"Like she had a secret boyfriend, do you mean?" Ginny pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Humm, now there's an intriguing thought."

Harry stared at the redhead, amazed that she seemed more interested than upset at the prospect. "She wouldn't, would she?"

Ginny shook her head pityingly. "Harry, much as I love you, you are just so dense at times! Draco Malfoy is gorgeous, rich and well connected, and I don't mean just to the Dark side, silly. He is Tonks' and Sirius' cousin, as well as Goyle's cousin, you know? He's sort of our cousin, too, if that helps. Hermione is pretty, intelligent and sweet, as well as determined to succeed. If things were different, then no one would be the slightest bit surprised if they got together; but, Harry, there's a war on. Draco is pureblood, Hermione is Muggle-born and neither of them is suicidal."

"Good point," Harry conceded, but it did nothing to sooth his suspicions. It would be just like Hermione to play with the fire Malfoy represented. Although she saw herself as the sensible one of the trio, he was very well aware that, when they found trouble, she was right up there in the thick of it with them. Admittedly, she protested all the way but she never dragged her heels when the chips were down. Still troubled, he curved a protective arm around Ginny's shoulders and both went back to studying the fire.

~~*~~

The room behind the restricted section was dusty and a little stuffy, but the candles were lit and books were strewn over the table when Hermione arrived. Entering cautiously, she paused to study the bent head glowing silver in the candle light as he wrote quickly and precisely. Glancing up, a real smile quirked his lips before it morphed into a slightly superior sneer.

"Well, don't just stand there staring, either come in and close the door before the light is discovered, or go out and close the door and disappear again."

"Charming as ever, I see," she muttered, dropping her bag beside the table leg and sitting down opposite. "What are you studying?"

"Arithmancy, we have Le Conza for it, who do you have?"

"Bixby, she's a darling and so bright!"

"Odd, she always struck me as only half there," he commented and bent back to his work.

Shaking her head, Hermione grinned and settled to study her own books just as diligently. It was pleasant studying with Draco, he didn't huff and puff, or flap pages, scratch his privates, or begin chattering about something totally unrelated. In fact, if not for the constant scratching of the quill or the odd rustle of pages, she would have forgotten he was present. Or at least, that was what she tried to tell herself.

Draco glanced up and stopped, a faint smile turning mischievous as Granger's lips moved as she was reading. It was kind of sweet and he glanced down at what she was studying; ah, of course, Latin!

"It's not as easy as you think," she said without raising her eyes from the page. "I'd never heard this stuff said aloud until I came to Hogwarts."

"My parents provided me with a Latin and Greek tutor when I was five, most families do," he replied simply. "What are you stuck on?"

"This... the 'ook' sort of sound," she said, sliding her book over and pointing to the script.

"Ah yes, I could never get that one either. You have to put your mouth sort of like this." He demonstrated and she giggled before trying to mimic him. "No, no, more like this." He leaned forward a little and took her chin in his palm using finger and thumb to shape her lips, then laughed. "You look just like a goldfish," he exclaimed, then froze in horror as an all too vivid memory took him.

Lucius reached up and shaped his own mouth to demonstrate to the five-year-old Draco how to do it. Giggling, the child said, 'You look just like a goldfish!' Lucius had glared at him and backhanded him off his chair, cutting his lip open and blackening his eye. "I will not tolerate your insolence, Whelp!"

Hermione saw the laughing grey eyes darken with what looked like terror and wondered what had caused such a state. Impulsively she eased the tightening fingers from her cheeks and smiled gently. "Oh, I thought it was more like a gormless goldfish," she said softly and leaned forward to touch her lips to his. "I like gormless goldfish."

He jumped as if touched by a live wire, the horror changing through relief to amusement. "Is that why you put up with Po..."

She placed her finger over his lips to still him. "No familiars in this room, remember?"

He paused then nodded slowly. "No familiars, just Wild Hair and Gormless Goldfish."

Giggling, she thrust the Latin text at him and told him to make himself useful as her language tutor.

~~*~~

It was well past curfew when the portrait swung open soundlessly and Hermione slipped into the silent and shadowed common room, a small, reminiscent smile on her face. She almost screamed when the shadows moved and Harry's bespectacled head rose over the back of the lounge, glasses like two mirrors trained on her.

"Alright, Hermione?" he asked softly, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Alright, Harry," she replied with a quiet conviction that was reassuring to her hearer. "Are you waiting up for me?"

"Well, when my favourite witch disappears to meet with an unknown quantity that might or might not be friendly, it is somewhat worrying."

Hermione sucked a breath. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled softly. "Hermione, I have known you for nearly seven years, seen you nearly every day and have lived through some of your worst lectures. I know you nearly as well as I know myself or Ron, and I know when you are sneaking around. Since there is no one in this school who is bright enough or good enough for you, the second place getter would have to be Draco Malfoy. And, since we know something about him that I don't think more than seven people in the world know, then I would say you had both better be so very careful that it makes the Order look like yesterday's news story."

"You aren't going to lecture or get angry?" she asked in surprise.

"Do you want me to? Would it make any difference?" He smiled at her shocked expression. "All I can say is be careful, and when you tell Ron be sure there is no one for miles around or he will out you quite by accident." Rising, Harry leaned down and dropped a kiss on her forehead in passing. "Don't let him break your heart."

~~*~~

Sevvy noticed the smell. It was sweet; a rich smell that seemed to permeate the whole area. It was a comfortable smell, an odd note of hominess in the hell of torture and retribution pounding through his mind. His nostrils flared. Stiffly, careful not to draw attention to himself, he turned, following the creamy smell until he faced away from the wall. His Grandmother hit him with her riding crop again, cutting his shoulders to the bone, but it didn't hurt as much as it had before. The hissing, mocking voices continued to denigrate him with vicious ridicule, but that smell....

Remus stared at the cup on the side table, longing to take a sip but just too sore and sorry to even reach for the pot to pour. It had been a vicious transition, from nine o'clock in the evening to late at night. When he had tried to sleep, the slashes in his flesh and the bites down his arms, legs and belly were deep and ragged, gnawing him into waking in starts. His dose of flu had left him weakened; he had paid dearly and would have a new crop of scars by the end of the week. Without Wolfsbane to blunt it, the wolf had taken full advantage of the freedom, inflicting the maximum amount of damage on his human body.

Shaking and weak, he finally managed to get himself into a sitting position and reached a trembling hand for the pot. He almost spilled it, but managed to get the spout to play a tinkling tune on the edge of the cup. The rich liquid - redolent in cinnamon, cream and chocolate - trickled into the cup at an agonising pace. When the cup was half full he gave up and plopped the pot back onto the tray in defeat. He was about to attempt to pick up the cup when he noticed Severus had moved out of his corner and was imperceptibly creeping up on the bed. Snape had an amazing way of shuffling his feet so that he moved around the room without seeming to move a muscle. It was quite funny in a sad sort of a way. How the mighty had fallen and been reduced to a clothes stand, as Arthur had remarked yesterday morning.

Flaring his nostrils, Remus was amazed to smell the interest and concentration his unexpected roommate was exuding. It was the first time Severus had shown any interest in anything outside his own skull for four days. He wondered what was causing the interest, then smiled a smile of sheer enlightenment. The chocolate smell was drawing Snape out of his self-imposed mind trap.

"Do you like hot chocolate, Severus? Molly makes the best hot chocolate in the world, and she puts cinnamon in it for me. Come and sit on the bed here, and we'll split this pot," Remus invited softly.

For a second Severus didn't react, then slowly - almost as if he had forgotten how - he moved his head to raise his chin and bring his eyes to bear on the werewolf sitting against the pillows on the bed. "Choc'late? For Sevvy?"

"Yes ... Sevvy, hot chocolate. Come on, sit down here beside me. I can't get up yet so you are going to have to help me."

Stiffly, like a badly oiled machine, Severus inched his way to the bedside and bent his knees. His buttocks touched the grey army blankets lightly, only slowly sinking into the mattress. Remus wondered at Severus' thigh muscles, they must be made of spring steel to move like that, but the skinny man didn't move any further.

"You may pick up the cup, Sevvy," Remus told him gently, giving permission rather than ordering him about.

A long, thin arm reached out as slowly as a sloth to hook long fingers around the cup and raise it in slow motion. Remus watched as it was conveyed toward the thin lips, wishing it was his mouth it was going to anoint but interested in seeing what Severus would do when he tasted the rich, sweet beverage.

The man inhaled, drawing the scent deep into his lungs before he slid out a long, narrow tongue, dabbing it into the cup to test the brew. Remus gasped, the sheer sensuality of his actions making his gut clench hard. Knowing himself well, who and what he was, Remus could appreciate the provocativeness of the man's unconscious actions without acting on them. And while he didn't know if Severus was male-inclined for sure, he could appreciate the long, clean lines of Snape's body and the classic bone structure of his face. Even his broken nose only added character, as far as Remus could determine.

Having tasted the potion, Severus analysed the liquid, his keen brain cataloguing and classifying the ingredients with no trouble at all. He continued to lap at the creamy fluid as if he was a cat, making Remus clench his fists and mewl needily. The tiny noise seemed to penetrate the fog around Severus and he paused, turning his whole body to look at Remus in mild curiosity. This was the most constant figure in his life, him and the red-headed woman with the loud voice and gentle hands. This man had a soft voice, but it was never vicious and hissing, only gentle and kind.

"It's good," he said, not his usually silky, deep tones but a small, light, very childish voice.

"Hot chocolate is always good for what ails you," Remus confirmed gently. "May I have a sip?"

The Snape almost refused, but then sighed and held the cup out with a petulant sniff and a pouting lip.

"You'll have to help me, Sevvy, I have been injured," Remus said evenly, holding out his bandage swathed arms. For a second he thought the man was going to freeze again, but then he moved and raised Remus' head, snuggling it into the side of his torso carefully to support him. The chocolate was not that hot, but the richness of the calories made up for it in an instant. Remus sucked greedily then realised Severus was watching his every move with worried eyes.

Lifting his mouth away, Remus told Severus it was his turn to drink and the man did so, using a more conventional drinking method this time. Slowly they split the cup, then Severus poured more and they finished that one off, too. Exhausted, Remus had Severus lower him back to the bed as his eyes closed and he fell back into dreamless sleep.

~~*~~

'Drink it! Drink it, damn you! How dare you disobey me! I am your Head of Family, you will take the potion!'

He forced his lips to remain closed, refused to be complicit in his own poisoning. They could not make him drink; in fact, they were not prevailing against his refusal. A tiny spark of astonishment started in the back of his mind, glowing like a renegade coal. He could say 'no' and they could not make him. He could resist!

"No."

Remus paused and glanced at his usually silent companion. "What was that, Sevvy?"

"Poison, don't drink it."

Glancing down at the glass of water in his hand, Remus frowned. "What's poison, Sevvy, the water? It's just water, isn't it?"

The narrow nostrils flared and the lank black hair shimmied as he shook his head in tiny frightened movements. The long, elegant hands twisted together, as if washing, and even the right foot ground toes into the flagstones of the kitchen in an unusual display of anxiety. The rest of the group in the kitchen looked over, puzzled and distressed expressions fading to pity when they realised what was taking place.

Glancing at Molly, Remus frowned then turned to stare at the taps consideringly. "Acclaro," he said, flicking his wand in a half-hearted effort.

The spell flared to life, sparks of green flashing in the stone sink below the taps, flashing in the drops that fell from the spout, glittering in the glass Remus held in his hand. He dropped it, and it shattered on the flagstones.

"Poison," Severus smirked in self-satisfaction, then the expression faded and he was again a statue in the corner.

That morning was a turning point of sorts, Severus beginning to take an interest in the outside world. He was nervous to the point of terror, and loud noises made him cringe. When Remus finally managed to get him to talk, Sevvy - as he preferred to be called - told the werewolf he was four years old and he missed his Mummy. He often clung to Remus' robe hem like a little child as the werewolf moved around the study, sorting and cataloguing the various bits of information their sources came up with. Remus didn't mind exactly, but it was sometimes hard to avoid bumping into the man who tended to get in the way.

Finally, Remus sat him down at the library table with a handful of coloured ink quills and a roll of parchment to keep him amused. He was amazed when Sevvy showed considerable adult talent in sketching, making a very precise crosshatched style pen and ink sketch of Remus himself. There was a study of a hand which was obviously Severus' own and a landscape of an idyllic stretch of land somewhere. The most disturbing sketch was of a scene out of a Muggle horror movie with gloating faces and a looming female figure wielding a riding crop. When Remus gently questioned the man, Sevvy pointed to the woman and said she was Grandma; the men were Father and Uncles Gregor and Bastion. Remus asked where Sevvy was in the picture and he pointed to a small black blob in the centre, no form, and no detail, just an uncompromising black blob.

In the evening, Severus took to snuggling up to Remus when they sat in the privacy of Remus' room, content to go to sleep with his head on the werewolf's lap. Remus found that stroking Sevvy's hair from his forehead was almost hypnotic and it relaxed them both, especially when Severus had had a bad day with tremors. He liked to be read to and told stories so Remus obliged, changing the stories to have a brave little boy as the hero where necessary. When he was finally ready to go to bed, Remus would tuck him into his bed, a long comfortable crib-like affair that had been set up near his own four poster bed. Sevvy seemed to like the bed, but he rarely managed to spend all the night in it.

When Severus had a nightmare he would crawl under the covers and wrap himself around Remus' back, snuggling in and rubbing his face into the curve of his neck. That would almost guarantee the Potions Master a good night sleep, but it also guaranteed Remus would get no more rest and a case of raging hormones that were very much out of place as Severus was still a child in his mind, even if his body was drop dead gorgeous!

"As odd as it seems, Molly, it's like having my own child; wonderful and very scary," Remus confided on the third day of taking care of Severus. "He's beginning to read again, picking out the simple words in the newspaper clippings I was looking at last night. He recognised words like 'ball' and 'spell', and I was so damned proud." Remus grinned ruefully at Molly, and they both looked over to where the Potions Master was meticulously stirring some flour and water Molly had given him. They both noticed his stirring was at a precise three hundred and sixty degrees, the spoon perfectly right angled to the base of the bowl and at the end of each rotation, he paused for exactly half a second.

"Be careful, Remus; remember he is not a child, but a rather nasty and vicious man when he is in his own senses. He would tear you apart and destroy you, if he was not ill. There is a lot of enmity between you, too much to be all forgiven in only a couple of days. You must remember we all blamed Severus for killing Dumbledore until we found the Pensieve and learned they had cooked the contingency plan up between them. If you had been a party to the rest of the memory segment, you would have seen that Snape was protecting Draco from You-Know-Who, and Dumbledore knew it, sanctioned it and gave permission for it. However, the majority of us had no access to the Pensieve, and so we were vicious in our condemnation. He has neither forgotten nor forgiven us that human frailty."

"I know, but.... Oh well, on the other hand, he may be a little more forgiving if we are careful of him at this vulnerable time in his life."

"Or, he may end up hating us worse than ever."

"Indeed," Remus agreed with a heavy sigh.