Ascent

Chapter 15

Hermione waited patiently on the doorstep as Severus's house elf went to fetch him from his cellar laboratory. The light from the entrance hall spilled onto the stone flags of the foyer like thin fire. Hermione preferred to stay in the frigid weather outside rather than wait against the unexpected, plush surroundings that Snape provided for himself outside of Hogwarts. There was something both invigorating and anonymous about the dry frost that had settled against the streets and buildings, and Hermione felt the need for both.

When Severus came to open the door for her, Hermione could not help but choke on her perfunctory words of greeting. He looked terrible, even for Snape. His hair looked several months overdue for a trim and hung limp over his shoulders. He had not shaved in what looked like weeks, although simple spells would have removed the growth in a second. Underneath his eyes, purple bags bruised and framed his black eyes. While his hygiene could not be said to be the best Hogwarts ever saw, she had come to expect a certain amount of control and dignity on Severus's part. He had always been presentable and sharp, held together by the force of his buttons alone. But now the oil in his skin and hair seemed to have doubled and his clothes looked rumpled and well-worn. Hermione was surprised that the man's house elf hadn't forced him into a bath and a night cap. She supposed that she would have to do it - Snape could not force her to do otherwise.

Days had passed since she had cursed Lucius, and the toll of the Unforgivable upon her good intentions left her without much appetite. Reluctantly she did eat and continued to doggedly compile her next move to help Voldemort. She had known that the Unforgivables were unforgivable partly for the reason that they ravaged a part of the caster- perhaps that part they called the soul - but the attribution of these curses to the spiritual destruction seemed arbitrary when there were other curses that were much worse than the three Unforgivables.

Voldemort had punished Lucius within an inch of his life in front of all the other Death Eaters so that any of them who had agreed with Lucius but had not spoken up would think again. Lucius had not been able to move for two days, and he walked with a severe limp the rest of the week. Hermione assumed that Voldemort would not permit Narcissa or any of his compatriots to heal him at all. Few of the older Death Eaters looked her in the face. She knew which ones supported her place as their lord's Medicus from the eye contact accompanied by a sort of subdued, smug smile.

In the meantime, Hermione sensed Voldemort's quieter attention upon her as she continued her work monitoring his surface decay without delving in completely in deference to his discomfort. He did not ask why she felt differently to him, and she did not offer an answer because she did not properly understand herself. Sometimes, as a Medicus, she had to do violent things in order to heal, but Cruciatus went well beyond that responsibility. The fact that it had been conjured wordlessly, reactively, filled Hermione's chest with a chill disquiet. All of that worry fled as Hermione slid past Severus into his home before he even had time to welcome her in or throw her out. It bespoke of his weariness that he had no precautions to stop her and no strength to push her away.

She corralled the house elf into helping her, and since that was what the elf wanted in the first place, Hermione had no real trouble beyond a few incomprehensible grumbles from Snape as Hermione lowered him into the bathtub. He never directly commanded the house elf to stop, so he must have been more tired than he appeared.

She had no reservations about the man's nudity as she might have eight years ago. She helped clean the oil and grime from his skin and asked the elf to get him some clean clothes. Once Snape was dressed, Hermione applied a cutting charm to his hair and a shaving charm to his beard. She then led him to the dining room where the elf had laid a hot stew and a hearty wine out for the both of them. They made it through the first bottle of wine before Snape felt dignified enough to ask her why she had come at all. His glance seemed careful, due to the less than agreeable way they had parted last time. Now that he had rested, he could be guarded again, the master of his own manor. He could be Snape.

"And why did you feel the need to visit me now, of all times, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I don't know what these times are, Severus," Hermione replied. "I thought now was the right time to come back to you. As you told me."

Snape raised a characteristic eyebrow. "You're telling me that you have no idea what has been happening in the rest of the world?"

"I've been busy," Hermione replied. "If you've been busy fighting Voldemort, it makes sense that my attention has been on him. The Death Eater fortress doesn't have a Daily Prophet subscription."

"Then you know I cannot tell you what has been happening," Snape said.

"I never asked."

"You never answered my question," Snape interrupted. "Why are you here?"

"I need your help in procuring some items, I'd appreciate some neutral suggestions on a few things, and... I wanted to leave the fortress for a little while, for reconciliation with you, at least." Hermione held up a hand to stop his protests before they started. "I don't want you to give me answers to any of my questions that might help Voldemort, although I suppose anything you do might help him. Still, my authority as a Medicus can make you tell me anyway. All I need to ask are questions along the lines of academia and theories that I might have missed. Nothing specific to the Dark Lord."

His eyes were still tired, but he stared at her with a measure of contemplation and clarity. "You've become more amenable to your position."

Her face tightened, but she nodded.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked. He would never have asked a student, but she was no longer his student, and he could afford to show a little compassionate interest.

"I performed an Unforgivable," Hermione answered, not quite looking at Severus. "Not on purpose, it was a silent spell, more reaction than anything. But it's not often that Cruciatus comes out of thin air, and... I did it to protect him. Me mostly, but also him."

"If you're feeling guilt, that means you're merely human," Severus said. "If you're looking for reassurance, you won't receive it from me."

"I know, I'm the bad guy now," Hermione said. "Just saying that feels so strange."

"You aren't the 'bad guy,' as you put it," Snape replied. "But the fact remains that you work for him, and you seem to have finally acknowledged the fact - for that, I won't insult or harangue you. I will not, however, encourage your use of Unforgivables and other Dark magic that irreparably harms your soul, however unintentional. That the Cruciatus curse came from your wand without a direct casting implies that the darkness inside of you that developed so long ago is still as strong as it was. You may have caged it with your Medicus training, but I'm sure that aiding Voldemort has created a sort of trigger to bring it out again."

"If you recall, that was exactly what I was afraid of happening when I last saw you," Hermione said dryly. "I was afraid that if I became too accustomed to Voldemort and helping him without my usual scruples..."

"Yes, yes, I know, you were right all along. You're maddeningly good at that sometimes."

Hermione managed a grin at that.

"You aren't, however, maintaining the illusion that you are impartial to Voldemort's fate," Snape continued. "That will be important in the days to come. And something is coming." He raised his glass to his nose, inhaling lightly before finishing the wine. "Your unusual allegiance to him will be important. You won't have to test your Medicus vows when it will be the hardest."

Hermione did not say it aloud - that would have given Snape information about Voldemort that could help the Order in defeating him - but she thought to herself, Of course they all had to be fighting an epic war when all Voldemort needs is peace and time. She supposed she could say that about Harry as well, although to her knowledge, Harry was only getting stronger because he was working with his natural magic. He would never try and enhance himself beyond all recognition like Voldemort, nor would he be able to. Hermione had a whiff of nostalgia for the old days - that they seemed simple to her now indicated how complicated life had become.

"Why are you warning me?" Hermione asked. "Isn't that...?"

"You cannot share vital information from our side with his," Snape said. "I have no such scruples or vows to maintain, and the warning is more for you than the Dark Lord. He may not keep you up to date on current events, which I believe to be a gross error on his part, but your own safety and wellbeing is connected to his. And I will admit that I, as well as other members of the Order, continue to find your wellbeing important."

"Why, Severus," Hermione said, "I never knew you cared." It was supposed to be a teasing remark, but the joke fell thin. She did not really have the energy for it.

"On the other hand, the information I handed you isn't vital," Snape said. "You would have discovered it in time - it's hardly information. There's bound to be several climaxes to this never-ending war." Snape closed his eyes, but the lines between his eyebrows did not disappear.

"We can discuss this tomorrow," Hermione said, standing up and beckoning to the house elf. "You should get to bed. You'll be more coherent if you sleep."

"There's no time," Snape murmured.

"The Order will get along without you for one day, and you'll be no use to them like this. I'll have Mindy keep everyone at bay while you rest," Hermione said.

He said nothing to her on the way to his room, but Hermione did not sense any antagonism or annoyance at her concern.

"Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?" Hermione asked.

Snape waved his hand, as though brushing the request aside. Of course she would be allowed to stay. She touched his covered hand in gratitude, then left him to his rest. She settled into her usual guest room, sighing as she sank into the window seat and looked out onto the street where snow was starting to fall again.

She woke up to the wind whistling through the glass and the smell of a proper breakfast floating up through the doorways. She stretched, enjoying the moment alone. She rarely had a moment alone in the fortress - Voldemort was always present heavily in her head. She still felt the connection here, but it did not impose. She could not remember if she had ever smelled breakfast at the fortress - she was so focused, and her room had its own smell. It felt like the first time she had relaxed properly. She was in no rush to leave the warmth of the comforter.

Finally, the house elf came in to get her out of bed, looking decidedly less frazzled than the evening before. Clearly, her master had received the requisite amount of food and rest so that she was able to allow herself the same luxuries. Hermione grumbled good-naturedly and told Mindy that she would be down in a minute or two.

"Now that I'm not falling asleep in my cups, as it were," Snape said somewhere in the middle of breakfast, "what exactly did you come here for besides diplomacy?"

"I would go to Minerva about Transfiguration theory," Hermione replied, "but I don't think she'd welcome any questions that might help Voldemort. I don't blame her really. I knew I could depend on you to respect the nonpartisan aspects of my work. Also, although it does not require going underground or anything like that, I could use your company in procuring whatever animals I need."

Snape stared at her for a moment. "Animals."

Hermione gave a little half smile. "Fifteen mice, fifteen snakes, and fifteen lizards. I need them for experimental purposes."

"Miss Hermione Granger of S.P.E.W. is looking for lab rats," Snape said, his fork paused on its way to his mouth. He almost smirked.

"I wouldn't do it if I thought I had an alternative. You know that perfectly well," Hermione retorted.

"And the lizards and snakes are for..."

"I need something reptilian," Hermione explained. "Voldemort has enough of the serpentine inside that to presume him to be human would only hinder the experimentation."

"He's become worse, hasn't he?" Snape asked.

"I can't tell you that," Hermione said quietly. "I shouldn't have to say it."

"I wasn't trying to gather information," Snape said. "We know he's unwell."

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to you," Snape continued. "So you've decided to fully take on your responsibilities as his Medicus, but if he's too far gone, your responsibilities may not last to next summer."

"Maybe you're underestimating him. Maybe..." she said with a touch of coldness, "you underestimate me."

Hermione tried to feel some sort of remorse for talking to Snape like that when Severus was just about the only person she really had left outside the fortress. She did not want to alienate him, but the way that he was probing... She did not appreciate Severus's spy work here and now.

"Hermione, far be it from me to criticize my reflection, but you're being paranoid," Severus said, passing the buttered toast.

"Wouldn't you be?" Hermione asked.

It seemed as though Snape were actually considering the question. Hermione had meant for it to be rhetorical. Staving him off before he could answer, she interrupted, "What do you think is the best way to contain fifteen inevitably breeding mice? I want them to breed, which will probably have me knee-deep in mice after two weeks or so, but I'll deal with that when I get to it."

Snape forewent the first rhetorical question and answered her second. "Use the tank that was given to you for Voldemort's Animagus."

Hermione blinked.

"You do still possess it, yes?" Snape asked.

"Yes, but... I hadn't even thought..."

"A common malady," Snape muttered into his goblet.

"Well, there's one solution, surprisingly easy," Hermione said. "Let's see if I can cleverly arrange my words so that you have no idea what complicated concept I'm talking about yet are still able to answer my question as it pertains to the unstated subject." She sighed. "I hate politics."

"But you don't trust me," Snape said.

Hermione laughed dryly. "You were a spy for half of your natural life. I don't trust you with information. And you know that I shouldn't be. Don't tell me you aren't going to go straight to Dumbledore with our conversation, even though we're neutral right now."

Snape did not answer, but Hermione thought he looked a little hurt beyond his usual stoic expression.

"You could always have me make a wizard's oath that I will not share anything you discuss with me here. You have the authority as a Medicus to force me into an agreement," Snape said. His voice was so even that Hermione realized she had hurt him quite badly; she felt a worm of guilt travel around her stomach.

"You're a clever man," Hermione said quietly. "You could figure out a way to get past it, I'm sure. Don't take my caution personally, Severus."

He was too proud to say that he had been doing just that. "Continue," he said, pouring coffee for both of them and leaning back in his chair. His demeanor was cold, but as Hermione continued to carefully confide in him and ask him questions, he relented to Hermione's persistence. After all, she was only doing what she needed to do, and she had learned half of her caution directly from him. He could not find it in him to stay angry for long. Then again, he might just have been tired. Either way, Hermione took advantage of it and enjoyed her time away from the fortress with a remnant of her past.

***

"Please extend my apologies to Remus and Harry and... anyone who cares, really. But I have to help Voldemort now. There is no neutrality, no nonpartisanship, in this assignment, and I am bound to him until his death."

Snape had responded with equanimity to her request. Hermione supposed that he understood what it meant to be in the ambiguous, in-between place in battles. Or maybe it was not even that her position was ambiguous - she was emphatically on both sides. Outside the fortress, it was all the more confusing. It reminded her why she stayed in the fortress rather than try to find many good excuses to leave.

Sometimes it was good to have a dose of reality. Cooped up in her room, she was protected, cloistered from the world and its happenings. When it was just she and Voldemort, she did not have to think about what he did beyond the fortress walls. Although if Severus's hint regarding something monumentally significant in the future indicated anything, it was that she was going to have to think outside of the fortress very soon.

She sat exhausted on her bed. She had retrieved the tank that once held Voldemort in his Belthazar form and magically compartmentalized it so that it could hold the three sections of her animal specimens. They scrambled about, slithered, sauntered, explored their new homes. She sighed and wished she could have just bought at cat at the emporium. Maybe she could get someone else in the fortress to feed them and clean their living space. She briefly considered Wormtail - he was usually the Death Eater given the dirty, menial job - but she dismissed that as soon as it occurred to her. Nor did she trust anyone else to care for them without disrupting whatever experiment she was doing at the time. Just looking at the mice crawl over each other made her spine want to curl up into a little ball. But the creatures were good enough.

He did not knock, but Hermione felt a sense of hesitancy as Voldemort opened the door to her bathroom and slid into her room.

"I expected you back earlier," Voldemort said.

"Unfortunately, I have my own schedule to contend with," Hermione said, a little more harshly than she intended. Voldemort raised an eyebrow at her tone.

"Severus was unwell," she clarified. "And in my position, conversation with him is dodgy at best. And I hadn't anticipated having a menagerie in my room."

Voldemort blinked at the tank, the flood of memories returning to him. "Interesting choice," he finally said.

"Severus suggested it, actually. I had almost forgotten its existence," Hermione said. She could not help but stare sidelong at Voldemort and remember him again in that alternative state, the way he almost seemed a companion, an object of affection even. The moment gave her a chance to notice that his robes were of a heavier fabric than usual - stylishly double layered, but surprisingly thick for him - he preferred something in which he could move easily. He did not seem hampered in these robes, but they lent him a strange regal quality.

"Are you cold?" she asked, brow furrowing as she reached under a sleeve to feel the temperature of his skin. Under the fabric, he was warm, but his hand was cool, and as she enhanced the connection between them, she sensed just how deeply the coldness reached. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked," Voldemort said shortly. "I assumed it was one of the myriad side effects of stripping away the immortality spells."

"Side effects that you should have told me about," Hermione said.

"Side effects I thought you would feel."

"I've been recovering from the fever from those spells. It must have been beneath that," Hermione said. "Or... maybe I simply took your warmth, although I consider that unlikely."

"You've been distracted lately," Voldemort interjected. "The weather is cold. There is any number of reasons why you did not notice. But now you know."

"Are the robes enough?" Hermione asked.

"They are adequate. It is warm in my rooms - I keep the fire high. I am hardly going to sun on a rock."

The comment reminded her of something she had been meaning to do since she had returned - it also reminded her of something else, but she could not pinpoint exactly what it was.

"Walk with me," she said as she stood and headed to the bathroom. Voldemort followed her without a question. It was neither prudent nor practical to chastise her for a command, as much as Voldemort felt the compulsion to do so.

As they passed from her bathroom to his, he said, "Severus is unwell? I suppose he would be, with the most recent attacks. I believe he regrets that he was not a better spy every day of his life."

"I'm sure there are times, but I think he is happier as he is now," Hermione replied. "The duplicity wore on him as much as anything - now he only has to serve one master."

"The only master Severus ever served was himself," Voldemort murmured.

"I disagree," Hermione said. She did not elaborate. "Severus told me that something big was coming. One of many climaxes to the war, he called it. Care to elaborate?"

Voldemort was quiet as they entered his rooms and headed toward his fireplace. Hermione took a small handful of powder from his mantle and threw it into the roaring fire - Voldemort was right, he did keep it warm in there, almost tropical - before walking through the flames into his private library. She ignored the stack of books next to the table and headed toward the humming shelves. The little, fine hairs all over her body seemed to stand on end; her skin tingled. The feeling was not unpleasant.

"What do you think you're doing?" Voldemort asked mildly. He might have protested more earnestly if he were not so intrigued by the way her hands caressed the bindings he had not permitted her before. She looked as though she was returning to an old friend, and Voldemort felt a thrill of accomplishment.

"This is no time to be delicate," she said, turning to him. "If I am going to help you, I need the whole of your library. I don't know what might help. And if the curse against Lucius was any indication, the Dark Arts have left their cage. I can't protect myself and protect you at the same time. If I've bound them once, I hope that I can bind them again, or that I can control them. But either way, your case is far too unique and far too dark to wear kid gloves."

Voldemort's pleased countenance was all the answer that Hermione needed, and it sent a chill down her spine. This was a little more unpleasant, but not as bad as it might have been eight or nine years ago. She felt discomfited, but she pushed those feelings away. There was work to be done.

"You never told me what is going to happen?" Hermione said, lowering her head away from Voldemort's pleasure.

"What Severus told you was going to happen? How careless of him," Voldemort replied, leaning against the wall behind him. "Although I suppose I would have told you soon enough."

Hermione gathered potential titles as he spoke.

"It will happen near the end of the year," Voldemort began. "You are familiar with our tactics, aren't you? We are largely vigilante, very much like the Order, although we are the aggressor, and they can only try to anticipate our actions and defend against us. They still have trouble finding us in order to initiate their own aggressive acts. With the giants, werewolves, and dementors, as well as my own various factions, we can strike from various sides, while the Ministry is still inimical to the Order, although the Aurors are beginning to rebel."

When he saw that she was carrying too many of the books as she went along the row, fingers clinging the bindings, he reached over and took a few of them, setting them on the table with the others. Hermione did not quite look at him as she permitted him to take the books.

Voldemort continued, following her as she continued to search for more. "Through mutual correspondence, although that was not without its own battles, we've arranged a battle. It will be the first of its kind for us. We have pinpointed the general date as well as the location. They tried to keep me from attacking them until then, but I would have none of it, any more than they would. They also requested that it be after Christmas - I would have contended the demand, but I have the morale of my own to consider, and as much as I hate holidays, they could use a celebration. I imagine we will cement the date newer to New Year's. It would be appropriate. But it will be an older kind of battle, straight forward, face to face, a large-scale duel. I'm rather looking forward to it."

Hermione's insides seemed to turn into ice as he spoke. She knew that this was war, but she had largely been separate from it since seventh year - the description brought her closer to it again and reminded her how people she loved were going to be on the battlefield.

"What do you anticipate will happen?" she asked.

"There will be a battle, and it will be bloody. We will take prisoners and our wounded, leave our dead, and they will do the same. My army is greater, and the Order and the rogue Aurors will be much more weakened," Voldemort said. "What did you expect, Hermione? Did you think that because I was corresponding with my enemy that I would grow soft and diplomatic?"

Hermione swallowed past a lump and tightened her grip on the book in her hand, feeling the leather give to the pressure of her fingers. It was oddly comforting.

"I would, however, feel more assured, if I could reapply the immortality spells," Voldemort said with a pointed look.

"I don't know," Hermione sighed. "I don't trust what that kind of magic does to you - it kills you more than it extends your life, you know that. I don't even advocate you going into battle at all at this time."

"Find a solution, Hermione." He glanced around at his books. "You wouldn't want to be unprepared when you join me."

"I'm not going to be at the battle," Hermione said. Voldemort gave a slight hiss at the declaration. "It would not follow the Medicus laws. I would be choosing sides." But the words seemed to fall short. By being Voldemort's Medicus, that inexorably placed her on a side. She had even told Severus that she was with Voldemort, therefore had to reluctantly work against the Order. In the end, however, it was a blurred distinction that Hermione was going to have to determine on her own.

Voldemort sensed her hesitation and only murmured, "If you think that is appropriate."

"I cannot be there," she said more forcefully. "I cannot be at a battle in the middle of a war, Voldemort. I can only pick up your pieces."