In Love and War

Chapter 1

A change was in the air and it wasn't just the scent of pine needles that was aggravating Severus Snape's allergies. Before he knew it the last day of school had arrived, and with it the infernal hustling and bustling of Christmas cheer. Even students who felt themselves to be in the depths of final exams and term papers were reveling in anticipation of the holidays. As usual, Snape was not looking forward to the festivities in the least. "Christmas 'cheer' indeed. False high spirits is more like it," he grumbled under his breath. Everyone was going merrily about their business, while somewhere out there Voldemort was waiting... Am I the only one who sees it? he thought to himself.

A cold gust of wind slammed the office door shut and blew a stack of corrected seventh year Potions exams to the floor. Snape scowled as he knelt to pick them up, frowning especially at the "105%" written in a pinched hand across Hermione Granger's exam. He'd been so certain that no one would get the extra credit question, but he hadn't reckoned with the one student who would actually read the potions textbook cover to cover, including the footnotes in Appendix 3. Some teachers might have been pleased that one of their students showed such dedication, but couldn't it be anyone besides Hermione Granger?

No, not even the usual liberal application of red Correcting Quill on a pile of especially hopeless first year exams could rouse him from this gloom. He had to face it: his mood did not stem from the impending holiday season complete with all its foolish rigmarole, nor from inept yet blindly optimistic students wasting his precious time, though it did relate to a certain student. A certain bushy-haired, formerly toothy, know-it-all of a student. A certain student who had just gotten 105% on her final exam of the term. A certain student who had walked into the potions classroom at the beginning of her seventh year with something akin to poise and maturity, not to mention a definite swing in her hips. It was a fact that students changed, but to have Hermione Granger walk into his room transformed into that was not what he had expected.

Was she so changed, or have you just been blind all these years? he asked himself--a question he didn't want to think about. There was no doubt she was growing up. He had been forced to chaperone the last trip to Hogsmeade (McGonagall had caught two Slytherins in a rather compromising position on the last trip, and declared that since the two offenders were in his house, it was only fair to give him this duty) and on the way he couldn't help but notice Hermione Granger and her red woolen dress, which left entirely too little to the imagination for his own good. Since then, she had been cropping up in his thoughts more frequently than he would care to admit. And the damnable thing was that she appeared to have no idea of the effect she was having on certain segments of the male population. At the very least, he thanked whatever powers that be that Hermione hadn't transformed into one of those anatomically impossible models of women that Muggles seemed to hold dear. Last he had seen her proportions seemed to be well within the physical range of a normal human being. Yes, she was attractive, but in a...wholesome way. Falling for the witch next door, are you? There must be something in Muggle psychology about cases like this. Snape shook his head in disgust.

He supposed it was only natural to be attracted to her. It was perfectly normal to desire an attractive adolescent of the opposite sex. Such things were only human--one thing he had always had difficulty accepting about himself. Of course nothing would come of this attraction. This was one young witch that was off-limits no matter how he looked at it. Even if she was mature for her age she was still hardly more than a child, no matter what signals his body was sending him. He would never abuse his position of authority in this way (intimidating students was another matter, naturally) or exercise the power that being her instructor gave him. You fool, you're acting as if she would throw herself at your feet. She would never even look twice at a man your age, let alone think of you as a...well, never mind. Hermione Granger would never have the slightest idea that her Potions professor sat in his office and had carnal thoughts about her while he should have been correcting exams.

With such thoughts on his mind, Snape hardly heard the soft but insistent knock on his door. "Yes?" he snapped, more out of habit then out of genuine annoyance.

The door creaked open, and a face peeked in hesitantly. "Professor Snape? Sorry to bother you, but Dumbledore wanted to make sure you know it's time to leave."

By Merlin, it was Hermione Granger, as surely as if his thoughts had summoned her. She didn't look directly at him, but rather stood in the doorway and stared at her feet as she scuffed her toes against the floor, looking more than a little unhappy to be there. She coughed once, and then again slightly louder, and Snape realized he was looking a bit too intently in her direction. "I really am very sorry, but Dumbledore sent me to tell you that the carriages have left already, and to remember that there's a Portkey for us that won't wait all day."

Snape found he was feeling especially irritated at her usual reluctance at being in his presence, and there wasn't any harm in playing his cantankerousness up a bit. She would think something was wrong if he was too civil toward her. "I'm certain the Headmaster had the best of intentions in attempting to find a competent student to convey me the message, but I assure you I am capable of keeping track of the time without a reminder."

"Of course, Professor Snape. That would be why the rest of the members of the Order are waiting for you on the school grounds." Hermione spoke acidly enough, but he detected a quick sideways glance at him afterward, gauging his reaction.

"I would advise you to have a bit more caution with the names you bandy about, Miss Granger. You may feel perfectly safe at Hogwarts, and more than ready to toss around information that certain people would find very useful, but I would warrant that I know more about such subjects than you do, and suggest that for once in your life, you should curb that tongue of yours." The last barb might not have been altogether necessary, but what else can I do to keep up appearances? he thought. Hermione likely wouldn't find any of his words more harsh than usual.

"If you mean having more personal knowledge of Voldemort and his followers, don't worry, I'm sure that distinction will go to you."

"That's right." For the first time, their eyes connected, and Hermione stared at him as if daring him to look away first. Snape felt torn between genuine exasperation with a hint of anger, and an urge to laugh at the mulish look on her face. He bit at his lip and glanced away before beginning to speak. In response, he was a gleam of satisfaction in Hermione's eyes. This is all fine. Let her feel that she's in the lead. "I think you've gotten your point across, Miss Granger. If you're quite satisfied, why don't you go back to Dumbledore and tell him I'll be along shortly."

Hermione lifted her chin, the same steel in her eyes. "People are waiting, and Dumbledore sent me to get you. I'm not going back alone."

"Oh." Bad move Severus. That sounded very...milquetoast. "Very well, I shall be along shortly. You may wait in the hall if you so insist."

"I do, and I will." With that, she turned and walked out of the room. She did not, as he had expected, slam the door, but closed it with the utmost control. It wasn't every day a student really stood up to him, and it looked as if Hermione Granger was going for the record. So, he thought. This was how it would be.

Snape went through the motions of gathering up his things, making the appropriate rustling and thumping sounds, though he had little to do. He was only delinquent in grading his exams and keeping track of time, his things were already packed and piled tidily by the door.

He wondered if Hermione would be gone, but either to his dismay or to his pleasure (he wasn't sure which) she was still there when he emerged with his baggage, including a satchel with the inescapable exams. They did not speak; she led the way automatically, striding purposefully through the halls without looking back. Weighed down by his luggage, Snape lagged behind, keeping one eye on the bouncing curls bobbing in and out of his line of sight.

He was embarrassed to discover he was wheezing and panting slightly as he carried his bags down the steps onto the grounds. It was getting dark outside already, and Hermione was getting farther ahead, but he would be damned if he asked her to slow down. As if she could hear his thoughts, she glanced back over her shoulder and called out, "Are you managing back there, Professor? Do you need some help?"

Before Snape could finish his protestations ("No, thank you, I'm fine really"), Hermione had managed to get several of his bags out of his arms and was in the lead again, practically skipping towards the group standing outside Hagrid's hut. Snape was gritting his teeth at the indignity of the situation--appearing in front of his colleagues half-winded, looking as if he had needed assistance from a student, and a smug Gryffindor at that.

"Here he is. I found him in his office, grading papers," Hermione chirped, in what Snape felt was a distinctly gleeful tone.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Still hard at work, Severus? It sounds as if you deserve a much-needed holiday."

"Oh, well, I..." Snape paused as he saw Hermione deposit his bags rather hastily, and hurry to join Ron and Harry. "Careful! There's delicate equipment there. I don't expect you to understand how it works, but I might ask that you handle it with--"

"Oh, look at the time," Dumbledore said suddenly. "Departure coming up. Everyone gather round..." He produced a round plastic object from under his robe. "It's a Muggle object. They call it a Frisbee I believe. All right now, everybody grab hold."

Snape shuffled forward with his luggage under his arms and took a finger hold of the Muggle object. He supposed everyone else had had their luggage taken care of ahead of time but he had forgotten. Due to certain...distractions, perhaps? Never mind, no one's going to harass you about a little matter like this. Dumbledore's speaking now, better pay attention so nothing else goes wrong.

"Everyone have a firm grip on the Portkey now?" Dumbledore was asking.

"I dunno 'bout Severus there," boomed Hagrid. "'E an' his luggage are barely holding on by a fingernail. Dunno what 'e's got hiding in all those bags."

"Fine," Snape hissed. He slid his hand forward slightly--just enough to collide with Hermione's much smaller one. There was a pause before she withdrew her hand, long enough for Snape to feel a surge of something run through his body. He twitched slightly and closed his eyes, relaxing slightly as the world faded to black.. It's only a hand. A small, warm hand. A child's hand, Severus.

And then there was Dumbledore's voice saying, "On the count of three: one, two, THREE," and the familiar tugging feeling took over. The world was no longer sharp, but flying by in great smears like running paint, followed by the usual jarring sensation as they came to a halt. They stood before two shabby Muggle houses, but no, not two anymore. A third house had appeared between them, puffing up like an inflatable raft. The door opened and out stepped Lupin, looking tired and wan.

"Come inside," he said. "I've got news for you."

Chapter 2

"News, Remus?" McGonagall paled slightly. "Not about...oh, I do hope..."

"Let me guess," said Snape. "Bad news?"

The cold was already eating through Snape's suddenly thin-seeming black robes, and he could feel a foul mood beginning to take hold. Seeing Lupin's face, even if he looked as care-worn as he did at the moment, could always take a perfectly fine day and send it south. This was by no means a perfectly fine day, so at the moment Snape found he did not care one iota if something bad had happened to Lupin. Even if he were in the best mood of his life, he doubted he could find much sympathy for Remus Lupin. As usual, he was certain that any news was bad news, but if it only threatened Lupin, so much the better, though he very much doubted that this was the case.

Dumbledore held up one hand. "Patience everybody. I can only speak for myself, but I don't think standing out in the cold will us any good. I'm we all will feel better if we go inside, sit down, and have a bite to eat. Perhaps you should put some water on, Remus."

"You're right Albus. Please, why don't you all come in?"

They filed into the hallway, blinking as their eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Lupin sighed and rubbed at his forehead, and Snape couldn't help but glower as he noticed the worried expression that instantly came to Hermione's face. Naturally he would be her favorite professor. He's probably playing up a little headache and she's all sympathy. I on the other hand could be lying on the floor bleeding and she wouldn't so much as glance in my direction. All right, that wasn't fair, but since when was he fair?

Lupin was now apologizing as he hurried to set the table. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking... Here, have a seat, have a seat. Oh, I made tea already, and I--"

Tonks emerged from the kitchen, slightly flushed and not quite as cheerful as usual. "Oh, hello! Look, I even opened up a tin of biscuits ahead of time. I think I'm becoming quite the cook, eh?" She gave a little laugh that instantly grated on Snape's nerves.

"Good, good. Shall we then?" Dumbledore was his usual self: composed, cheerful, and unflappable. Mad-Eye Moody on the other hand sat at the table, appearing, if anything, more serious than ever.

Snape decided that it wasn't only him; Tonks' laugh seemed forced and lacking any real joy. Definitely bad news then, he thought.

In fact, a desolate pallor seemed to hang over the whole house, more so than just the ever-present combination of gloom and grime. Snape considered himself a connoisseur of bleak moods, and the one he was heading towards certainly wasn't going to be improved by a cup of lukewarm weak tea and a stale biscuit. Maybe a cup of something truly hot and alcoholic would do the trick, but not anything in this grubby place. Unbidden, a scene came into his mind. He was sitting in an armchair in front of a fireplace, a warm fire crackling away, and Hermione Granger curled up on the floor at his feet, reading. Or sitting next to him, or perhaps even sitting in his lap... No, no, no. That was one place his mind was not going right now. He snuck a quick guilty peak at Hermione, who was busy slapping Ron's hand away from her plate and most definitely not looking in his direction.

"Would you like sugar? Milk? Lemon?" said Tonks, hovering at his elbow hopefully.

"No thank you," Snape replied, frowning at the tray in her hand.

"Oh all right," she said, rather disappointed.

"Don't mind Severus," said Lupin. "He never eats here. Evidently he finds it too offensive to his sophisticated tastes."

"I see," said Tonks, sounding as if she did not see at all. "Well, your loss I suppose." As she turned to leave, she stumbled and lurched in Snape's direction. "Oh oops...sorry. Sorry! It was an accident, how clumsy of me. Oh, you know how I am..."

Tonks face flushed red as the contents of the cream pitcher slowly ran down the front of Snape's robe and spread across his lap in a large damp spot. She continued to stammer apologies as he pulled out his wand and muttered a drying spell with a great sigh. After Tonks had finally quieted down and taken a seat next to Lupin, Snape saw that Hermione was looking at him curiously. He felt his face beginning to turn red and he scowled in her direction. She looked away immediately and did not glance back for the remainder of the meal.

After the cups of tea were drained Lupin began to speak. "I'm sorry everyone can't be here right now. We decided that it's too dangerous for us to all meet in the same place at the same time. We're sticking to small groups. In fact, I wouldn't have called you here now if I didn't feel it was necessary. I didn't feel safe sending owls, so I suppose this will have to do." Tonks fidgeted in her chair and Lupin gave a slight nod in her direction. "Thanks to her...family connections," (Tonks grimaced) "a possibly problematic matter has been brought to our attention. I'll let her tell you the full story."

Tonks blushed a little now that she had everyone's attention. "Well, it just so happens that my mother got a letter from her dear sister. You know, one of the ones she hasn't spoken to in years, Narcissa Malfoy. Apparently my lovely aunt wrote a letter about how 'Blood is thicker than water' and 'past mistakes should be forgiven'--she didn't say whose mistakes, but I'm pretty sure she isn't talking about herself--and 'family of all people should bury the hatchet and move on'. And at the end she just happened to ask for a loan. Just until she gets back on her feet, but what with Lucius 'unfairly' in prison and the trials and court fees and the cost of a decent solicitor these days..."

"You mean she hasn't been able to find enough stuff to sell off?" asked Ron. "Dad always said that the Malfoys must have loads of illegal things hidden in their house..."

"Hold on a sec. Who's telling the story?" Tonks said. "Anyway, a few days later, Narcissa owled my mum again and said she didn't need the loan anymore. According to her, she and her solicitor had been going through some documents and found a copy of the last will and testament of Mr. and Mrs. Black. Funnily enough, it turned out there was something they had missed before. Upon the death of the Blacks, their house would pass to the next deserving relative, who in this case happens to be Narcissa. Lucky for us, she seemed to enjoy rubbing the whole thing in Mum's face so much it didn't cross her mind not to spread the news. And well, that's the story."

The room went silent for a moment. Dumbledore looked as calm as ever, Ron looked confused, Harry was frowning, and Hermione appeared to be thinking.

"But 12 Grimmauld Place is unplottable, and then there's the Fidelius Charm," said Hermione. "It's simply not possible for them to find it...is it?"

"I just don't know," Lupin said. "It doesn't seem that way, but I don't know if we can rest easy quite yet."

"Well of course we're not going to rest easy, lad!" Mad-Eye Moody spluttered. "We'd be a bunch of half-wits if we weren't worried right now."

"All right, Alastor," said McGonagall. "I think that's enough for now. Perhaps we should retire to our rooms." She shot a meaningful look in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's direction.

"Agreed. That's enough for one day," said Lupin. In fact, he looked as if it might have been too much. Snape did some quick calculations in his head, and realized the full moon was tonight. Well, isn't this wonderful timing we have.

"If that's final, I had best be off. I have some business to attend to," he said.

"Not your exams, I should hope," McGonagall said. "I finished those ages ago. Not a hard task, believe me. Why in my day, we didn't even have Correcting Quills. You young teachers are so spoiled today, you wouldn't believe it."

"Right. As I said, I'm off now." Snape stood up, ready to leave the room as quickly as possible without apparating upstairs, when a voice from behind him stopped him abruptly.

"Professor, you wouldn't have happened to correct my exam yet, would you?" He turned around to face a large pair of rather imploring brown eyes. Hermione Granger was talking to him. Not that she would ever speak to me if it weren't about something like grades.

"I, er..." He paused, feeling like an utter fool. To let a pair of big brown eyes get the best of you? You're losing your touch Severus. What would happen if you kept going like this? You'd be a spineless puddle of jelly in no time at all. Snape drew himself up as tall and straight as possible. "I do not show preferential treatment towards any of my students, Miss Granger. Just because you happen to feel that you've gotten cozy with the Order of the Phoenix is not going to make you teacher's pet. If you're going to grade-grub, I suggest you try elsewhere."

He pivoted on his heel and left, but not quickly enough to miss the whispering that followed, and the not quite whispered comment from Hermione. "I hope you remember that the next time Draco licks your boots...or are you too busy groveling to Lucius Malfoy?"

It took self-control, but he did not look back.