Survivors

CHAPTER 11

Under the Impression

A knock sounded at Hermione's door. It would be Remus. Again. She hadn't been down to meals in two days. He kept checking on her, apparently under the impression that she was ill. She was happy to leave him with that impression.

She pushed the covers off and went to the door, opened it just wide enough to accommodate her body, but not wide enough to be considered inviting..

"Hi, Hermione," he greeted her with a wan smile. Was it just her, or were his smiles getting sadder? Probably just his way of showing concern at her supposed illness.

"Morning, Remus," she replied with an equally wan smile. It was, she supposed, still technically morning.

"I'm just heading down to lunch. Feeling up to joining me?"

"No, thanks, I'll probably just have a sandwich sent up." The house-elves had been, as usual, happy to accomodate her whims and delivered food and drink whenever she felt like it, which hadn't been all that often, in all honesty.

Remus nodded as if that was the answer he had expected. "Let me know if you need anything," he offered, as he usually did.

"All right. Thanks." She was about to close the door again when Remus turned back, hesitating, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how to begin. "What is it?" she asked, leaning against the door frame.

He looked first at his feet, then raised his head and took the plunge. "Severus hasn't been in the Great Hall, either. Since the reunion." He nodded solemnly once to punctuate the statement and left.

Hermione lingered in the doorway until Remus had gone around the corner. Her heart was thudding against her ribs. What did he know? More importantly, what had he meant by that? Or, put another way, why was Severus not appearing for meals, and why did Remus feel that she should be informed of that fact?

She went back in, closed the door, and crawled back into bed. She had been reading a very stark account of Grindelwald's persecution of kabbalists and it had done wonders toward making her stop feeling sorry for herself. She might even make it down to dinner. Especially if Severus wasn't going to be there.

When she recalled the events of two nights previous, she was in turns despondent and hopeful. On the one hand, she had made him angry again. No. Wait. Revision. He had gotten angry again. She hadn't done anything wrong. It was far too easy for her to fall into his trap of putting the blame on others for his insecurities. She hadn't been toying with him. She had been sincere in every one of her thoughts and actions regarding him. Why couldn't he see that? Why did he insist on being so obtuse, on jumping to every single wrong conclusion that he could lay his hands on? It seemed that no matter what she did, he would throw up a barrier. Those were the thoughts leading to despondency.

But then she remembered the other bits. The physical bits. The exciting bits. The kisses outside in the middle of the night, in the middle of the snow, when she was certain, absolutely certain in the way a woman is certain about such things, that she had connected with the real man underneath all the damage, bluffs, and insecurities. And that had been brilliant. Exhilarating, thrilling, passionate. It wasn't just the physical chemistry that had happened between them, it was something deeper, something to do with trust and belief and...compassion? Empathy? ...Love?

And that was where she got hopeful. If she had gotten through to him once, surely she could again. She wanted to. Because it wasn't just about him anymore, about rehabilitating his reputation or convincing him that he wasn't evil. It had become about them. She wasn't sure at what point it had happened, and she wasn't sure that it would lead to anything at all, but Severus had become more than just interesting to her, and she wanted to explore that. She deserved it. They both did.

...xOxOxOx...

Hermione took a spoonful of her Stilton soup and marveled at the creamy texture. Those house-elves were geniuses at food. Well, after all, they had been bred for it. The staff door to the Great Hall opened, and Hermione looked over immediately, half hoping and half fearing that it would be Severus, but it was just Professor Vector. She smiled at her and returned to her meal.

The Hall was sparsely populated by the perhaps two dozen students who had remained over the holidays, and the staff presence had likewise thinned out: Angelina was spending the holidays with her boyfriend, a Muggle pro footballer; Professor Sinistra had gone to New Zealand to view a solar eclipse; Professor Smith was at Disney World with his family; Professor Flitwick had gone to visit relatives at the North Pole; and Snape, it seemed, was still holed up in his dungeons.

She had debated whether to go down yet again and try to coax him to come to dinner, but in the end had opted to simply show up herself, and see whether he also would come of his own accord. The fact that he was also making himself scarce indicated to her that he had been affected by that night as well, perhaps similarly to how she had been; she didn't think he would have stayed away from meals if he were only angry at her; after all, he spent most of his time being angry about one thing or another, and he still usually showed up for meals. Could it be that he was embarrassed about having made false accusations against her? That he didn't want to be reminded of his behaviour by seeing her? Or maybe he was regretful of what he had said and done at the Leaky Cauldron, and it wasn't her that he was avoiding, but rather Professor McGonagall. That also didn't seem very probable, as not a day went by that he didn't insult someone or other, and again, it had never kept him from meals before. Maybe he was ill, she thought suddenly. He had gotten quite damp rolling around in the snow. Someone should check on him...

"Remus," she said, putting down her spoon, "has anyone checked on Severus? It could be that he got sick the other night. From being out in the cold, I mean." She didn't want to give any more details. No one knew what had transpired between them; at least, she didn't think so. Perhaps Minerva had seen something when she had passed by with Hagrid, but she wasn't one to gossip.

"He's been having his meals delivered to his rooms, the house-elves have told me, so he is alive, at least," the Headmistress informed her, once she had swallowed her mouthful of Welsh rarebit.

"I-- I'd like it if someone would make sure he's all right," Hermione said tentatively. "I'd rather not go myself this time; something tells me I've probably annoyed him enough in recent days." She gave Minerva a nervous smile.

Minerva raised her eyebrows, as if surprised at Hermione's assessment of the situation, but simply said, "I feel certain that if he were too ill to take care of himself, he would have reported to the infirmary."

Hermione wasn't so sure about that, but Remus saved her from arguing the point by saying, "I'll go down after dinner. There was something I wanted to discuss with him anyway." He did not look at Hermione, but concentrated on cutting his meat.

Hermione frowned. What did Remus want to discuss with Severus?

...xOxOxOx...

I'm a coward. A coward and a weakling. Letting that twit of a Mudblood witch get to me. Only she's not a twit. She's cleverer than I want to admit, and she's much more interesting than that bossy juvenile she used to be. Interesting? If only it were a matter of simple interest. There are many people--witches, wizards, Muggles--who are interesting from the point of view of their achievements or their appearance; I always found Tonks's metamorphic ability quite captivating, for instance; and the Muggle spy Melita Norwood also intrigued me.

But Granger--Hermione (when did I start thinking of her as Hermione?)--is in a category all to herself. Unbelievably nosy, an infernal annoyance, thoroughly ignorant of decorum, a monumental pest who has done nothing but sow discontent in my life. Yet I find myself unable to face her. The memory of what she...did to me...what she did with me...how exposed I was... Those fingers, those hands, those arms, those lips... I am no stranger to physical stimulation, but the reaction she was able to elicit with barely the whisper of a caress put all of Lenore's considerable exertions on my behalf to shame. Not that there is any comparison between the two. Lenore simply relieves an irksome physical demand, much as a bar wench brings a thirsty man a drink. There is no further connection between service provider and patron. Hermione is a woman (yes, dammit, a woman! as if that hadn't been clear to me before) who demands attention, who wants something in return for her attentions.

It would have been so easy if she had just been using me to make the werewolf jealous; or if she were simply exploring her own ability to charm men. But she has to complicate things with those damned Gryffindor attributes: honour, virtue, honesty, loyalty. All things I know nothing about.

A chime announced that someone was out in the corridor and wished his presence.

Merlin, let it be nothing more than a student.

But the unknown visitor was not saying anything to make his (or her--don't let it be her, not now--) presence known, which meant it was certainly not a Slytherin student--or if it was, he or she would soon be on the receiving end of a Snape-class berating, since they were all under strict orders to announce themselves when they required an audience.

Moony. Better or worse than her? Can I reserve judgment on that?

"Lupin," Snape sneered. "What do you want?"

"Good evening, Severus," Remus said pleasantly. "Might I come in for a moment?"

"No."

"I'd rather not talk to you out here in the hall."

"Then you can leave."

"It's something of a personal nature. I feel it's important."

Personal? Good gods, maybe he actually is going to fight for her. This might be entertaining after all.

Snape stood aside to allow Remus to enter, then closed the portal behind him. He did not offer Remus a seat, but stood next to the door, his arms crossed.

He was curt. "What is it, and be quick. I have things to do."

"You must have been quite busy the past couple of days," Remus noted politely. "Haven't seen you around."

"Surely you didn't come here to discuss how I have been occupying my time."

Remus gave him a self-deprecating smile. "Yes and no."

"Explain yourself."

Instead of speaking right away, Remus looked around the sparsely furnished room. "I don't know that I've ever actually been in here."

"And with good reason."

"You and I, we're both a bit of a loner."

Great Merlin above, he's not making a play for me himself, is he?!

Snape merely glared at Remus in an off-putting manner.

Remus wandered over to the table and glanced at the papers spread over it. "Hermione didn't come out of her room for the past two days," he said offhandedly.

Snape's eyebrow jumped up, but he immediately got it under control again.

"I didn't ask her why, although I think I know." Remus adjusted a paper, turning it toward him as if he were interested in its contents. Normally, Snape would have been snapping at him to leave his papers alone, but he knew that Remus wasn't even seeing them.

"She was at dinner tonight, though. Think she wondered where you were. Thought you might have taken ill. Something about having been out in the cold." He cast a sideways glance at Snape, but the other man did not so much as give a sign that he had heard.

Remus moved on to the nearest bookcase and turned his head sideways, as if he were reading the spines. "I won't pretend that I don't care about her. I'm sure you know that I do."

Ah, here it comes. He's going to tell me to stay away from her. Precious!

Snape smirked.

Remus took a deep breath, standing with his back to Snape. "There's nothing between her and me, Severus. Never has been. Never will be." He turned halfway around and looked at Snape over his shoulder, giving him a half-smile. "Not that I would mind, mind you." He shrugged. "But you know how it is."

He turned to face Snape, standing stiffly, his hands behind his back. "I'm here because she was worried about you, but was afraid to come down herself. Can't say that I blame her, personally, after the way you've been letting your temper get the better of you."

Snape's gaze darkened.

Remus walked back toward the door and stopped next to the other wizard. "She won't hurt you, Severus. She's waiting for a sign from you. I hope to goodness I won't regret saying this, but...I think you should take this chance. From one lone wolf to another."

Snape stiffened even further, if that were possible. "I would hardly compare myself with you, Lupin."

Remus smiled to himself and looked down. "No, I know you wouldn't. Nonetheless." He looked up at Snape again. "Don't let the past destroy your--and her--future." He inclined his head in a little bow and turned to the exit.

Snape let his uninvited visitor out, then resealed his den.

I hate that man! So smug and self-righteous. Lone wolf, indeed. That was an interesting exchange, however. So he thinks I should make a play for Hermione after all. I'm not quite sure what to make of that. It won't be that he gives a damn what happens to me. Unless...oh, how very noble of him. How very, very Gryffindor. They deserve each other. I certainly don't.

...xOxOxOx...

"Well, Hermione, what can I do for you?" Minerva sat behind her desk, her hands folded primly before her.

"I'd like to ask you some questions, if I might. About Severus's trial."

"Oh Hermione, for goodness' sake!" The Headmistress sounded more than a little exasperated. "I think I know what your interest in Severus is all about now; I do have eyes in my head, you know. All those issues--his past involvement with the Death Eaters, his spy status, his trial--"

Hermione noticed that she hadn't mentioned Dumbledore's killing.

"--those are all dead and buried. You should try to work with what you have now. That's my advice to you."

Hermione tried not to be embarrassed at Professor McGonagall's obvious allusion to Hermione's attraction to Severus; in fact, she decided not to go there at all. "Thank you, Minerva, I appreciate the wisdom of your experience, but I need to know about the trial. Remus couldn't help me, since he wasn't there, but he said you were."

"Yes, I was, as a member of the panel. As such, as you undoubtedly are aware, I cannot discuss the Wizengamot's decisions."

"I know, not the decision, but surely you can tell me what evidence was brought against him, what his defense consisted of. There will be transcripts, after all."

"Honestly, Hermione, I do not wish to become involved in dragging this issue up again. The decision was made to drop the charges against him, that much you already know, and beyond that the details are irrelevant. Why can't you let it stand at that?"

"Because..." She flailed around for an explanation, one that would sound reasonable to the Headmistress, but really, it was just a burning desire for knowledge, and so she let it stand at that. "I just have to know! It might help me to understand him better. Or maybe there's some information there that will convince people like Hagrid that he was never really a Death Eater. Because he wasn't, I'm just sure of it. Oh, I don't know, it's just that I have the feeling that there's something there, some vital information that everyone's missed."

"And you think that you will discover what the entire Wizengamot with their vast experience and knowledge failed to find?" She sounded both amused and condescending.

Hermione didn't know how to answer that without sounding incredibly conceited. Yes, she did think that. Wasn't it she who had found out that the monster in Slytherin's chamber was a basilisk? When even Dumbledore and the entire staff had been stumped? Hadn't she gotten past the potions task, which had been constructed to thwart the greatest minds from among Voldemort's minions (and they weren't all goons like Macnair), to get to the Philosopher's Stone?

"Do not take it personally, Minerva, Professor Granger always was an inquisitive nature." A familiar voice spoke from the wall, sending goosebumps down Hermione's arms. Was that--?

Professor Dumbledore was looking down at Hermione with a kindly smile on his face. Or his portrait was, at any rate.

"Albus, this concerns a matter which has nothing to do with the running of Hogwarts. It is out of your area." Hermione thought that the Headmistress was being overly snippy.

Dumbledore's picture nodded gravely. "True, but it seems to me that you are discussing a matter which involves two current instructors, both of whom I happen to have had the pleasure of knowing during my tenure. Perhaps I can give some insights after all."

"Professor," Hermione blurted out, suddenly seized with an inspiration. Why had no one thought to ask Dumbledore himself what had happened? "Can you tell me about that night-- I mean, about... About when you died?"

Dumbledore's smile turned wistful. "Unfortunately, or fortunately, as it seems that I met with a rather unpleasant demise, judging by what the other portraits have told me, I have no knowledge of that event. It must have happened, clearly, or I would be sitting in that chair right now, enjoying an After Eight mint."

"So you know that Professor Snape is supposed to have killed you?"

"Hermione, really, I hardly think that--" Minerva began, but Dumbledore cut her off.

"It's all right, Minerva, it is not painful to discuss it, after all. Yes, I have heard some rather vicious rumours to that effect."

"Could they be true? You knew Professor Snape better than anyone. You trusted him and kept him on here even when others insisted he was a spy for Voldemort."

"He was," Dumbledore answered calmly.

"He was...what?"

"He was a spy for Lord Voldemort. Just as he was a spy for our side. Oh, don't look so shocked, Professor. Conflicting parties need a way of exchanging information. Professor Snape played a very important role in the Order. The information which he provided us with was accurate and enabled us to prevent many deaths."

"But... But then, if was also passing on information to Voldemort, then he betrayed you, too!"

Dumbledore looked at her over the top of his half-moon glasses. "The fine difference, one which many people fail to see, is that Professor Snape was unable to pass on any information to Lord Voldemort which could possibly have harmed our side. After all, we were not planning murders and mayhem. We were merely attempting to stop him from doing them. I made quite sure that truly sensitive information, such as the location of our Headquarters, and the identities of inside operatives, were safeguarded from betrayal by anyone."

"So you could never make Professor Snape a Secret Keeper."

"Precisely. As much for his own protection as for ours. And while we knew that he was passing information to Lord Voldemort, I am quite certain that Lord Voldemort was unaware of Professor Snape's duplicity."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Professor Snape is still alive today," Dumbledore replied simply.

"So he was really working more for the Order than for the Death Eaters. Which means he couldn't have killed you."

"On the contrary. In fact, I certainly hope that he did."

Hermione gasped. "What? Why?"

"Because, I told him to."