A Capacity for Love

Chapter 22

Ron's Birthday

The next day was a Saturday. Not just any Saturday, but the first day of March. It dawned a brilliant blue, and there was a hint of warmth in the air that promised Spring coming, despite the icicles still hanging from the eaves. Hermione felt that if there were any day to make a new beginning, this was it.

She had already decided to ask Harry to accompany her on a walk around the grounds, in order to get him alone to discuss the attack on Halloween. The beautiful weather gave her a perfect excuse. She was nervous but aching to tell about it, now that the opportunity was so close. She still didn't know exactly what she would say, but somehow, in the next few hours, the secret would be out.

And so it was with something akin to anticipation for the first time in months that she went down to breakfast, even making the effort to be a little early so that she could catch Harry before he ran off to Quidditch practice or tracking Malfoy.

However, it appeared that she had been a bit too eager, as there were only a handful of students at the Gryffindor table when she arrived, and Harry was not among them. Undaunted, she poured herself a cup of tea and reached for the toast.

By the time she finished her second cup, she was beginning to get annoyed. Those boys were so lazy! Seamus, Dean, and Neville had already been and gone. She felt certain that Harry and Ron were still up in bed, or had possibly skipped breakfast all together (although that would have been very unlike either of them) and gone straight out to the Quidditch pitch.

When Ginny came down, Hermione asked her if she'd seen either of them, but of course she hadn't, so Hermione set off purposefully back up to Gryffindor Tower. Luckily, she ran into Seamus just as he was coming back out through the portrait hole, and he was able to tell her that neither Harry nor Ron were up in their dorm. A quick look around the common room revealed no trace of them, either, and so she went upstairs to get her cloak before heading outside.

Once again, she had to remind herself to calm down; she hadn't made any previous arrangments to meet with Harry, and so it was hardly his fault that she couldn't find him. It wouldn't do her any good to start screeching like a harridan and make a scene. Just invite him to a friendly walk in the fresh air, whenever he was done. That's all. It was just so frustrating: as if, now that she had decided to talk to someone about it, some mysterious power were conspiring against her, making it impossible for her to do so.

The feeling was redoubled when she arrived at the practice field and found the Slytherin team at practice. Thinking that maybe Harry and Ron were spying on the team, or on Malfoy in particular, she scoured the stands, walking completely around them twice, but could not find any sign of either of them. Of course, they were probably hiding under that stupid Invisibility Cloak. They must have seen her, too, walking around the field, but were purposely ignoring her. Well, three could play at that game! She stomped off back to the castle and holed up in her room, nursing her hurt feelings.

What had she been thinking anyway, wanting to tell Harry? It's not like he would actually care. Oh, he'd be interested in hearing about the Death Eaters, and would probably be full of righteous anger on her behalf, but he wouldn't understand. But still... it would have been nice not to bear the secret alone anymore. She swallowed over the sore lump that had risen in her throat and buried her face in Crookshanks' long orange fur.

+++000+++000+++

"I am not disagreeing with you. I am merely pointing out that I don't see how he could have done it."

"Then we must find out how, Severus. It was too close this time. If not for Harry's quick action--"

"One Weasley more or less," Snape muttered.

Dumbledore gave him a sharp look. "That was uncalled for."

Snape curled his lip. "A moot point at any rate. The boy will make a full recovery."

"It was very, very sloppy."

"I shall inform him to make certain it is a clean kill next time," Snape parried drily.

"This is no joke!" Dumbledore's expression was pained. "Severus. Please."

"Of course," Snape relented. It really was a serious situation. "You realize, however, there is only so much I can do. He refuses to cooperate. He does not trust me."

"There must be someone he confides in..."

"His only cronies are those two louts, Crabbe and Goyle. They may be useful for keeping away the rabble, but not for hatching plans of murder."

"Quite. Miss Parkinson?"

Snape made a dismissive gesture. "A past-time, nothing more."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, a thoughtful look on his care-worn face. "He reminds me very much of you, you know."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "In what way?"

"You also had no confidants at school. No one to share your plans, your dreams, your worries..."

Snape frowned. "No one to double-cross me, rat me out, blackmail me..."

"You are too cynical."

"Practical."

Dumbledore sighed. "If he does end up killing someone, even if by accident, I fear the shock of it will send him running to the other side, irrevocably perhaps. That is why I thought it so important that he make some sort of amends to Miss Ploppe. See that one error does not spell one's ruin."

"The payment was made, as far as I have been informed."

"A life taken is not so easy to recompense. That is why any means must be taken to prevent Mr Malfoy from accomplishing his task. Any means at all."

+++000+++000+++

Hermione debated whether or not to go down to lunch; she wasn't very hungry, and she wasn't much looking forward to seeing Harry now. Although he knew nothing of it, she felt, illogically, that he had let her down. But when Lavender and Parvati stopped by the room to drop off their bookbags, she couldn't muster the energy to put them off and found herself being dragged down to the Great Hall after all.

The meal was already in full swing when they arrived, but Hermione was puzzled to see, once again, no sign of either Harry or Ron. She began to get a bad feeling. At the same time, she didn't want to alarm anyone in case she was just being paranoid; the incident of her jumping to false conclusions during the Apparation lesson was still a sore point in her memory. So she kept silent but scanned repeatedly down the length of the table for a glimpse of red hair, other than Ginny's long mane. She also strained her ears to pick up any hint of Harry or Ron's names in the conversations around her, but even Lavender seemed to have other things on her mind as she discussed horoscopes with Parvati.

Finally, when Ginny got up, Hermione nipped after her and caught her just outside the door.

"Ginny, have you seen either Harry or Ron at all today?"she asked, trying not to sound concerned.

"You were looking for them already this morning. Didn't you find them?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think they were spying on the Slytherin practice this morning, but I never saw them."

Ginny's eyes got wide. "You don't think Malfoy--"

"It's possible," Hermione admitted, thinking back to the beginning of the year, when Malfoy had stomped on Harry's nose after finding him under the Invisibility Cloak in his compartment in the Hogwarts Express. "But both Harry and Ron?"

"He's got Crabbe and Goyle," Ginny pointed out. "Do you think we should go to Dumbledore?"

"Not yet. I don't want to get them in trouble if they're off on their own. Let's look around a bit more. If they don't show up for dinner, though--"

"Right." Ginny nodded. "I'll go check the hospital wing, just in case," she offered.

"Let me know if you find them, will you?"

"Of course." Ginny smiled. "What are friends for?"

Hermione felt slightly relieved as she made her way back up to Gryffindor Tower for her books. There was probably nothing to it. Still, Harry did have a penchant for getting into trouble, and this year had been surprisingly incident-free for him so far. He was about due for a dose.

When she topped the last staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower, she groaned inwardly to see Cormac McLaggen standing in front of the entrance already. She was about to duck back down the stairs to avoid running into him, but she was a bit too slow.

"Hermione!" McLaggen hailed her, holding up a hand in salutation and narrowly missing being hit by the Fat Lady's portrait as it swung open.

She gritted her teeth. "Hello, Cormac," she replied civilly but coolly and tried to step past him into the common room.

"Allow me," he said and grabbed her elbow, ostensibly to help her through the hole in the wall, which was, it must be admitted, somewhat awkward, especially for the larger students.

Without even thinking about it, she jerked her arm away as a feeling of disgust overcame her. "I can get in myself, thank you!" she snapped.

"It's no trouble," he insisted, but Hermione scrambled away from him and unfortunately tripped over the high threshhold on her way into the common room. She caught herself before she hit the floor, but she had the distinct impression that Cormac had put his hand on her bum; she couldn't quite be certain, though. Maybe she had just brushed it against the edge of the wall. She stood up and glared at him hard, though, just in case.

"No need to be nervous, gal," McLaggen said with a generous grin, once he was inside, too. "I'm just flesh and blood, same as you are." He gave her an appreciative look up and down.

Hermione's skin crawled and she turned quickly to go up to her room.

"Hey, you know," he said, catching up with her easily, "I was thinking of giving you another chance to make up for last time."

Hermione stopped and gave him an incredulous look. "You want to give me another chance? At what?"

"Why at me, of course! I know it was all a bit much at Sluggy's party; punch must've gone right to your head."

Hermione let out a sound of disbelief.

"But I know how eager you were to get together with me, after all, water under the bridge and all, why don't we go down to the pitch and you can watch me do a few rounds on my broom. I'll need to get back in practice if I'm to be the new Keeper." He winked at her.

"Of all the--" Hermione was very nearly at a loss for words, but she managed to come up with a few choice ones in the end. "I am not interested in watching you muck about on your broom. I am not interested in you at all. And I never wanted to go to Professor Slughorn's party with you. I only did because he forced me to have a date and I wanted to make Ron jealous!"

Without waiting for an answer, Hermione whirled around and ran to the girls' stairs. She was hot all over and didn't even know what she was doing any more. All she knew was that she needed to get away.

"What, Weasley?" McLaggen bellowed after her. "That little titch? Couldn't Keep his way out of a paper bag!"

Hermione was already halfway up the stairs when she made the connection. She ran back down and caught McLaggen at the bottom of the boys' stairs.

"What did you mean, you're the new Keeper? Ron's the Gryffindor Keeper. Unless you're switching over to the Slytherin team?" she asked nastily.

"Not a bit of it! Your lad was taken up to the hospital wing early this morning," he informed Hermione with a smirk. "Looks to be out for weeks. Months, maybe."

+++000+++000+++

She'd known it, she'd just known something was wrong. How could she have ignored the warning signs? Ron and Harry would never miss two meals in a row! Hermione was beyond tears as she raced to the infirmary, a sharp dread slicing through her. Why, oh why, did the staircases have to be so contrary today! She didn't wait until the last one had swung into place, but leapt across the gap, nearly twisting her ankle as she landed. She limped the rest of the way, imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios, most of which involved Draco Malfoy wearing a black-hooded robe.

As she came down the final corridor, her fear was drowned out in a fleeting moment by a surge of anger and betrayal. Ginny was sitting outside the hospital entrance, whispering with Harry. So that's how it was going to be. Of course no one would bother telling her what was going on. Her first instinct, once again, was to turn around right there and leave, but she was torn by guilt and the feeling that if Ron did die, she would never be able to forgive herself for having been selfish at this moment. And so she shoved down her pride and walked the last few yards stiffly, concentrating on not favoring her still-throbbing foot.

"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny at least had the good form to look embarrassed. "I was just about to come find you." Hermione resisted the very strong temptation to laugh. "Harry was just telling me what happened--"

"I couldn't leave him," Harry explained, his jaw set and looking down at his hands. "He could have died."

"And you didn't think any of us would like to know what happened?" Hermione said sharply. "That anyone else was worried?"

"It's not like you could have done anything," Harry said.

"Harry saved him!" Ginny interjected.

"Of course," Hermione said. Harry saved Ron, but he couldn't save her. "What happened anyway?" She still hadn't sat down. Not that either Harry or Ginny offered her a seat.

"He was poisoned!" Ginny cried. "In Slughorn's office--"

In a few words, Harry outlined what had happened. At first, Hermione thought it served Ron right for taking the Chocolate Cauldrons, but when she heard how close it had been, and that it was only due to Harry's quick thinking and the close proximity of the bezoar that Ron was still alive, she actually felt dizzy and let Ginny guide her down to the bench beside her.

"Oh my God," she whispered. Ron had been seconds from death. What had happened to her... at least she had never actually been in any mortal danger. The Death Eaters had never planned to kill them. Suddenly, the thought occurred to her: "Well, do you know who did it? Were they trying to get Slughorn?"

"That's what we don't know," Harry admitted. "Dumbledore and Snape were questioning me and Slughorn for hours this morning."

"Snape? Why him?" Hermione was immediately suspicious of Death Eater involvement.

"He's still a Potions master, isn't he?" Harry asked guilelessly. "Suppose Slughorn was too shaken up to analyze the poison. He said what it was called - I don't remember the name. Toxicity Class M, though."

"Kills within thirty seconds of ingestion," Hermione recited tonelessly, staring at the opposite wall. "No known antidote."

Harry and Ginny continued to speculate and go over that morning's events, but Hermione tuned them out. She'd been selfish and petty. Being rude and frosty toward both Ron and Lavender, just because they were flirting with each other. It's not like she had any claim on Ron. She should be happy for him! Happy that he found someone who was fun and innocent, not moody, irritable, and tainted like her. Not just physically tainted, either; she bore a spot on her soul that would never go away, a darkness that she had to shield others from. She knew that she'd changed, fundamentally, since Halloween. She'd become cynical, suspicious, pessimistic. That was why she didn't have any friends left. She'd driven them all away. But although she wanted to be friendly again, wanted to be part of the laughter and the flirting, the effort would have ruined her. She just didn't have it in her. Because she knew it would all be a lie.

But what if Ron had died... had died believing that she, Hermione, begrudged him his happiness? She didn't want his last memory of her to be of a snotty, bitter hermit. She would be better. She swore it to herself. She would try to be a good friend again.

Harry's mention of Snape in the context also brought a most curious thought to her mind: What if Snape died? What if he died, right now, thinking that she hated him? Her immediate reaction was, it would serve him right. He should rot in hell and suffer his punishment for what he had done to her... and everyone else (for she was certain she wasn't the first person he had injured grievously). But, at the same time, she didn't want him to simply suffer an eternity of agonies. He should feel sorry. The purpose of the hellfires (or whatever they did to bad souls these days) should be to make the perpetrators feel what they had inflicted on others, so that they would gain compassion and regret their deeds.

That is what Hermione wanted, she realized with a bolt of insight: She wanted Snape to feel bad about what he had done. That was what bothered her most about the aftermath: his seemingly complete lack of remorse, his (and Dumbledore's) repeated attempts at justifying his actions to her. She didn't actually care about him going to Azkaban or being publicly pilloried as a rapist and who knows what else. She wanted him to be racked by conscience, to experience the agony of knowing that he had irreparably harmed another human being and could never make it right again. That is what she wanted. And in order for that to work most efficaceously, she couldn't hate him. Because if she hated him, then he would feel justified in hating her back. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her; she didn't want his pity. She wanted him to feel sorry about himself, about his actions, instead of hiding behing some sort of fabricated construction about duty and sacrifice. And then he could die. And spend the rest of eternity regretting.

+++000+++000+++

"How did you do it?" Snape began with the direct approach. The boy hadn't denied possession of the Polyjuice Potion, and had almost confided in him the last time. Maybe the shock of nearly having killed Weasley was enough to nudge him that last bit of the way into Snape's confidence.

"How'd I do what?" Draco asked sullenly.

Snape sighed. It wasn't going to be that easy. "How did you very nearly kill Weasley?"

"By shagging his sister," Draco said, looking at his nails. Then he grimaced. "No. On second thought, scratch that. That would very nearly kill me. Filthy blood traitors."

"You don't need to prove your loyalties to me, Draco. I'm not trying to get you into trouble. As always, I am merely trying to help you." Snape spoke with exaggerated patience.

Draco glared at him. "How is it going to help me for everyone to think that I made an attempt on Weasley's life? One side will hate me for trying, and the other will hate me for failing miserably."

"It was a miserable attempt," Snape agreed. "Messy and ill-regarded. Because you weren't trying to kill Weasley, were you? You were after the Headmaster. The question is, how did the poison end up in a bottle of mead in Professor Slughorn's office?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it! This is all such a joke. Obviously I had nothing to do with it. I don't even have access to Slughorn's office. And there's no way I could have brought poison into the castle anyway. If I look at all the trouble I had with just that bit of Polyjuice--"

The Polyjuice! Snape could have hit himself. He whirled around and dragged Draco out of his chair by the neck of his robes. "Where is that bottle?" he snarled.

Draco had gone white as a sheet. "Wh--What bottle?" he stammered.

"What bottle," Snape muttered. "The Polyjuice, you imbecile! Where is the Polyjuice?"

"In my quarters, locked up in my trunk..." Draco looked utterly confused. Either he was very, very good, or... But Snape couldn't take the chance.

"We're going to get it." Snape pulled Draco along, striding quickly out of his office. "Now."

Draco's protests at Snape's rough treatment fell on deaf ears all the way down the hallway, although they both composed themselves enough to march straight through the Slytherin common room and up to Draco's dorm in bitter silence.

Snape sent Blaise, who was reading on his bed, out of the room before he had Draco open his trunk to retrieve the heavy brown bottle. A single glance revealed that about a third of the potion was gone.

"What did you use this for?" Snape demanded as he swirled the thick mixture around.

"I didn't use it," Draco retorted, having recovered some of his attitude.

"Don't lie to me, Draco," Snape said in a dangerous tone.

Draco stood his ground and looked Snape in the eye. "I didn't use it."

Snape's wand hand twitched. It would be so easy...

"Go ahead," Draco said defiantly, as if he had read Snape's own thoughts. "I have nothing to hide. I never used it. I told you, it was for a lark. One of the seventh-years wanted some to use with his girlfriend. I didn't ask for any more details. It was easy for me to get - well, fairly easy--" he amended, "and now he owes me a favor. You never know when that will come in handy." He set his jaw, daring Snape to doubt the story.

It was probably true, too, Snape considered. It would stand up to a test of Legilimency. Although it was also probably true that Draco had used the Polyjuice himself for some other purpose. But what could that be? Could he have impersonated Slughorn? Not that morning, anyway; Horace had been under his and Dumbledore's scrutiny for well over the hour-long duration of Polyjuice Potion. Earlier, then, could Draco have used it to get into Slughorn's quarters to poison the mead? But that wouldn't make sense... simply looking like Slughorn wouldn't give him access to the man's personal passwords and wards. Or had Draco been trying to kill Slughorn, so that he could impersonate him and thus get close to Dumbledore? Something like what Crouch had done two years earlier? Not a bad idea, in principle... Perhaps Potter had saved not only Weasley that morning, but Slughorn as well, bursting in unannounced as he had. That is, all assuming that what he held in his hands was actually straight Polyjuice Potion, and not spiked with a certain Class M poison. It really had been clever of Draco to bring it in privately like that. He, Snape, had been sloppy the first time, not running a full analysis of the contents. He'd been overconfident, relying on his expert senses of sight and smell for identification. This time, he wouldn't make the same mistake.

"I will be taking this with me," Snape announced, pocketing the bottle in question.

"You already checked that!" Draco protested.

"Nevertheless. There is a poisoner about the castle. I wouldn't want you to fall his next victim," Snape said with a smirk.

There being nothing more that Draco could say to that, he settled for giving Snape an icy glare as he left.

+++000+++000+++

Hermione hung back behind Harry and Ginny when Madam Pomfrey finally let them in to see Ron. He looked terribly pale. She wondered whether it had hurt, whether he had been scared, whether he had realized at all what was happening, and was overcome by a wave of compassion, which she immediately turned off. She couldn't let herself have any feelings like that. It would end up hurting too much.

Harry and Ginny took the two chairs on either side of the bed, leaving Hermione standing at the foot. Madam Pomfrey explained that she'd given Ron essence of rue to increase his liver function, and that it had put him right to sleep. He wouldn't be waking up until tomorrow, so it wouldn't do them any good to try and talk to him.

Still, none of them wanted to leave. Just standing there, seeing Ron breathing, reassured Hermione that he was going to live. As if he would disappear when removed from her sight. It was a bit like a baby who hadn't yet learned the lesson of the permanence of objects. She tried to imagine what it would be like if Ron were gone, but the thought caused another black hole to open up in her mind which she didn't want to come any closer to. Just thinking it might make it come true.

The quiet atmosphere was interrupted shortly by the arrival of Ron's brothers.

"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," said George in as serious a tone as Hermione had ever heard from him. He laid a big, gaudily-wrapped box on the nightstand before sitting down next to Ginny.

Oh! It was Ron's birthday! It had completely slipped Hermione's mind. She felt worse than ever. No one seemed to be dwelling on the date, though; the twins wanted to hear Harry's story right away. The conversation quickly turned to speculation on who the poison had been meant for, and who might have been the perpetrator. None of their theories made much sense to Hermione, especially the one that said a third party had been using Slughorn to get the poisoned mead to Dumbledore.

"If that's true, the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," Hermione said, finally breaking her silence. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

Just at that moment, as if her voice had triggered something in him, Ron groaned in his sleep and mumbled something that sounded very much like Hermione's name. Everyone froze. Hermione clenched the brass rail at the foot of the bed and strained her ears, trying to make out what else he was saying, but it was all incoherent. After a few seconds, Ron flopped over onto his other side and commenced snoring. Hermione looked around at the four faces, all now staring at her. She felt very small and unworthy.

Mercifully, she was spared having to say anything at that point by the infirmary doors being flung open by Hagrid, followed shortly by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Once again, no one paid any attention to Hermione, and she began edging off, both not wanting to intrude on the family and feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the sobbing and large bodies. Coincidentally, Harry and Hagrid also took the arrival of the Weasleys as their cue to leave, and Hermione found herself in short order standing outside the hospital wing with the two of them.

She didn't really want to be invited down to Hagrid's place for a nightcap. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to be alone. She didn't think she could handle hearing Harry go through his hero story one more time, and truthfully, she was utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. She mumbled something about needing to get up to bed, and Hagrid offered to walk them up, 'just in case', which she couldn't very well turn down. At least no one expected her to say anything; she just listened as Hagrid and Harry re-hashed the attack and discussed what new security measures might be necessary.

Hermione was curious about this point, despite herself: Dumbledore had told her that, after the attack on Halloween, he had tightened security. If that was true, then the poisoner had to be someone who lived in the castle; possibly even someone who could make the poison themselves. One didn't need to be a genius to count the number of candidates on a single finger, and she was surprised that his name hadn't come up in any of the discussions thus far. But what possible motive could Snape have? That Ron was his target was laughable; Harry made slightly more sense, but Snape could have killed him a dozen times over in more failsafe ways over the past six years. That left either Slughorn or Dumbledore as the target. But the whole poisoning scheme was so haphazard and ill-conceived that it couldn't possibly have been thought up by Snape. Which brought them right back to square one.

Hermione hadn't really been listening closely to what Hagrid was saying, but his next statement made her blood run cold: ". . . the board o' governors'll be talkin about shuttin' us up fer good."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. That was it. It was a Death Eater plot to shut down the school. That was what they wanted to do with the Halloween attack. Now they were resorting to random attacks: the necklace; the poison. There was no specific target. They were willing to take into account that purebloods might be sacrificed. And all to get Harry out from under Dumbledore's protection. It always came back to Harry. But that couldn't be all. Even with Harry safe, the Death Eaters could do a lot of psychological damage to the British wizarding world by shutting down Hogwarts. It was what she and the other girls had tried so desperately to prevent by keeping the Halloween attack secret.

"Gotta see it from their point o' view," Hagrid went on. "I mean, it's always bin a bit of a risk sendin a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn' it? Yer expect accidents, don' yeh, with hundreds of underage wizards all locked up tergether, but attempted murder, tha's diff'rent. 'S'no wonder Dumbledore's angry with Sn --"

Hermione looked up at Hagrid sharply. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if he had let something slip that he oughtn't have. Although Harry pressed him, Hagrid didn't let on much more than that, other than the fact that Dumbledore and Snape had apparently argued because Snape didn't want to do something that Dumbledore wanted him to. Hermione was burning to know what that might be, but there was no time to draw more out of Hagrid, as Filch showed up at that very moment, threatening to put Harry and Hermione in detention for being out of their dorms so late. Hagrid was only just able to distract him long enough for Hermione and Harry to escape up to Gryffindor Tower.

Once they got there, Harry didn't seem to be in a talkative mood any more, which suited Hermione fine. He was probably exhausted, too. She bade him goodnight and fled up to her dorm. Lavender and Parvati were already asleep, and Hermione did her utmost not to disturb them, forgoing even brushing her teeth and only removing her outer robes before slipping under the covers.

Her brain was a-whir with facts, theories, and suppositions as she stared up at the darkened ceiling. She wasn't safe here. No one was. The next attack could come from any quarter. Was Snape who'd planted the poison? Draco? Or another hidden Death Eater? It wouldn't do her any good to go to Dumbledore with her theory; he knew about Snape and Draco's affiliation. He would just say he was sorry it had happened, and he'd try to close that leak as well. Damn him! He'd almost had a life on his conscience! What if Ron had died? Hermione clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. The pain gave a release to her anger.

Then there was the disturbing news of Dumbledore and Snape's argument. It was clear they hadn't been talking about anything having to do with the running of the school. Hagrid said he came upon Snape and Dumbledore outside, near the forest; they had obviously gone there so as not to be overheard by anyone in the castle. And so, logically, they must have been discussing something illicit, something that one or the other of them, possibly both, didn't want to be caught involved in. Dumbledore was trying to get Snape to do something that Snape didn't want to do; it must be pretty bad, considering all the things that Snape had already willingly done. He'd done everything but murder, as far as she knew. But Dumbledore wouldn't ask Snape to kill anyone. Would he? Dumbledore may have accepted Snape's role in the Halloween attack after the fact, but he hadn't sent him out that night knowing what would happen. He may have asked Hermione not to expose Snape so that some larger plans could go forward, but those larger plans didn't involve murder... did they? Was that what Snape was refusing to do? Was that where he drew the line? But it was crazy: who in the world would Dumbledore want Snape to kill? Not Voldemort; that had to be Harry, according to the prophecy. Was it connected to the poison? Had Dumbledore told Snape to put the poison in the mead? But why? It was so frustrating; she couldn't make the connections.

Hermione pushed the thoughts of Snape and Dumbledore away for the time being. She didn't have enough information. She could combine and theorize until her brain hurt, but that wouldn't make Ron better. Ron. Her heart would have broken when he said her name that evening, if it hadn't already been broken months ago.

Poor, innocent Ron. It should have been a comfort to her that it was her name he had mumbled, and not Lavender's. It should have caused her heart to leap for joy, the proof that she was the one he sought when his need was greatest. But it only caused her more sorrow; she could never be the one he wanted her to be, the one she might have been but for what had happened to her. Hopefully, he would just go back to Lavender when he woke up, and forget all about her. It would be better for them all.

+++000+++000+++

One error does not spell one's ruin. Perhaps not. But it can very well direct the course of one's life. And was his life not ruined?

Snape stared into the fire flickering languidly in the grate. For him it had been. All his dreams, his plans, swept away in one awful night: Halloween, 1981. From that moment, he had continued living only for others. His only thought to make some sort of atonement for what he had done, causing the deaths of two people. And now his penance was almost complete.

A log popped loudly, sending an ember out onto the carpet. Snape watched it glow briefly, then fade into blackness.

+++000+++000+++