What Goes Around...
A drabble series that grew out of the 'Headmistress Hermione' challenge on Grangersnape 100.
Summary: Down on his luck, Severus returns to Hogwarts to seek employment. Will the Headmistress give him a chance?
Rating:PG-13
Thanks to my betas Septentrion and Sempra.
1. The Interview.
Hermione gazed thoughtfully at the man sat the other side of her desk. His hair, still greasy, was now streaked with grey. His robe had seen better days.
‘Are you sure you want to return to teaching, Mr Snape?’ she asked kindly, knowing that he had tried and failed to make it as an independent brewer.
‘Yes, Headmistress,’ Snape replied without any great enthusiasm. ‘I'd like to be considered for the Potions position, should it ever become vacant.’
Hermione sighed. ‘Unlikely, I’m afraid, in the foreseeable future. But... Would you be interested in teaching DADA?’
Above her, Albus Dumbledore choked.
'Is the present incumbent mad, dead or a werewolf?'
Hermione laughed. 'Rest assured; the curse died with Voldemort—unless you count pregnancy as a curse.'
Severus raised an eyebrow.
'Which is why she feels unable to continue with the practical work,' Hermione added.
'I suppose that is understandable.'
'Professor Croft is willing to continue with the theory until I find a replacement, or stay until the end of term—whichever is the sooner. So, if it's convenient, you’d be doing me a huge favour if you could start next week.'
He nodded curtly. 'That would be most... acceptable.'
'Don’t you have any questions?' He hadn't even asked how much the salary was, which worried her.
Severus didn't really, but he thought he should show willing. 'Who's the current Head of Slytherin?'
'His name is Gary Burbage,' Hermione replied. 'And he's also the Potions teacher. I doubt if you know him—his parents were diplomats, and he was educated overseas—like his sister. She used to teach Muggle Studies...'
'Charity...' Severus looked at his hands, his lank hair covering his face. 'Yes, I remember her.’ He sighed deeply. 'So, a Muggle-born in charge of Slytherin. How... progressive.'
'Would you like some tea?' Hermione summoned a house-elf before Severus had a chance to refuse. 'Yes. In fact, all the Heads of House are Muggle-born. It was my one stipulation for taking the job.'
'I see.'
The house-elf reappeared with a tea-tray. Hermione thanked him and reached for the teapot. 'Milk and sugar?'
'Just milk, thank you.'
'So, if you were hankering after your old chambers, I'm afraid I shall have to disappoint you.’ She handed him his cup. 'Biscuit?'
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. 'Dungeon living and rheumatism do not sit well together in my experience.'
Sitting back, Hermione sipped her tea. ‘Ye-ess... One can only question the wisdom of excavating dormitories under the lake... Anyway, that's by the by.' She put her cup down on the desk. 'So. Wages. Naturally, with your experience, you'll go straight to the top of the pay scale—although, of course, it'll still be less than you were earning as a Housemaster.'
If Severus was surprised, he didn't show it. 'That’s not a problem, Professor Granger.' In fact, he had never expected such a generous offer.
'Well, if that’s all,' said Hermione, extending her hand. 'Welcome back, Professor Snape.'
Cup in hand, Hermione stood by the window, lost in thought. A raven, swooping down to the small, dusty courtyard below, caught her attention. She smiled. 'Clever bird.' Over the years, Hermione had searched for the stairway leading to that little garden, but without success. Whenever she tried, the castle somehow managed to thwart her efforts—even the house-elves were unable to penetrate its magical wards. It was one secret, it seemed, that the castle was unwilling to give up to its Headmistress. And so it remained, a permanent eyesore, unloved and uncultivated, waiting for a spring that never came.
'That was a good thing you just did, Hermione.'
Hermione turned to the portrait of Minerva McGonagall. 'He looks awful. I wish I'd known...'
'How could you have?' Minerva replied. 'Severus was always reclusive, always too proud to ask for help. I only hope coming here and facing his demons won't do him more harm than good.'
'There is that,' Hermione agreed. 'I hope I've done the right thing.'
'On the other hand, Hogwarts was the only home—' There was a cough to her right. 'And I don't want to hear a word from you on the subject, Albus.'
'Am I not entitled to an opinion?' said Albus.
'Opinion? After all you did to that boy—'
'I don't know what you mean, Minerva. Snape always was a bad lot, but he served his purpose.'
'Albus!' the two witches chorused.
'That,' said Hermione, 'is a dreadful thing to say. Hasn't the poor man suffered enough? Couldn't you see how depressed he was?'
'If that’s so,' Albus huffed, folding his arms, 'what are you doing putting him in charge of children. Hm?'
'If anyone deserves a chance, it’s Snape,' Hermione retorted. 'And I'm going to make sure he gets one.'
2. A Secret Revealed.
'I know this isn't what you're used to,' Hermione said, opening the door, 'but they were the most suitable quarters I could find for you at short notice, and I wanted to check—'
'Please do not trouble yourself,' Severus interrupted. 'This is more than adequate.' He appraised the room quickly. Standard, second-floor teachers' apartments: a small, cheerfully decorated living room/study with a bedroom and adjoining bathroom. It was light and airy, for which he was grateful. In the years since his brush with death, Severus had hated dark, confined spaces. No, this was much better than he had expected.
Hermione was relieved. 'Well, you know your way around. I'll leave you to it.' She turned to leave. 'Oh, that's odd... That door wasn't there before.'
Hermione walked over to it and tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn't budge. 'Locked,' she said, drawing her wand and casting Alohomora. Nothing happened.
Intrigued, Severus offered his assistance. At the first touch of his wand, the door opened with a soft click, revealing a flight of steps. Warily, he descended—with Hermione following on his heels.
At the bottom, a stone archway led into a small, cloistered, and very neglected, courtyard.
'Oh...' Hermione looked up and around, getting her bearings. 'I've been searching for this place for years.'
'Seems it did not want to be found,' Severus murmured.
'Apparently not.' She smiled. 'Well, anyway, it obviously goes with your rooms, so you may use it as you see fit. I think it may have been a knot garden once, though.' She pointed to her office window. 'If you look down on it when it rains, you can see the layout.'
It certainly had great potential. 'That is most kind. Thank you.'
Up on the roof, a raven was observing them keenly.
They walked in silence back to the archway where Severus spotted another door tucked behind the stairs. Opening it revealed a large, square room with an enormous fireplace at one end. Judging by the cobwebs, no one had set foot in it for years.
'This would make an excellent lab,' Severus muttered to himself.
'Indeed it would.' Hermione agreed. 'Are you doing any research at the moment?'
'Yes, but not very much. I don't really have the resources...' he trailed off.
'Hmm... Well, you have a garden and a lab...' She grinned at his look of astonishment. 'It's a start.'
Severus was feeling overwhelmed. He'd all but given up on his research projects, but now he had a steady income and the means to pursue his interests once more. And... Didn't the woman ever stop talking? What was she on about, now?
'I'd love to hear about it...'
'My research?
'Yes.'
They'd climbed the stairs again. 'I have regular meetings with all my staff—nothing formal—you can tell me about it then.'
'If you wish.'
Hermione stopped by the door and grinned cheekily. 'See you at dinner. I expect you remember the way to the Great Hall.'
Unpacking didn't take him long as Severus' possessions were few. After the war, despite being officially pardoned, his employment prospects hadn't been good. He'd tried his hand at the brewing business, but with his history and background, no one had trusted his potions—after all, he'd taught a large chunk of his potential customers, and they were not forgiving. In fact, a lot of them were only too happy to take pleasure in his failure. Opening his wardrobe, Severus was surprised to discover it stuffed full of teaching robes. This was too much. He was not a charity case.
Severus sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. He should have died—he knew that. There was no purpose to his existence now. Everything that had driven him up until his confrontation with Voldemort had ceased to be, and the victory had been an empty one. The freedom he'd craved for so long was hollow: Lily was no less dead. What was the point of living? Swallowing his pride and returning to Hogwarts had not been easy—but it was either that or sell his house. And Severus was not willing to do that.
Something was tapping on the window. Severus turned his head to see a raven pecking at the glass, but by the time he had walked over to investigate, the bird had flown off. He opened the latch and leaned out to watch it soaring over the Astronomy Tower before dropping his gaze to the little courtyard below. A knot garden... Severus wondered who had tended it last. It would certainly be a challenge to revive it... Yes, that would be his purpose for the present—as well as imparting his wisdom to the latest batch of dunderheads, of course.
3. Kindness Personified.
The murmuring voices in the Great Hall fell silent as Hermione stood up. The wizard on her right needed no introduction—though why he was there was the subject of intense speculation.
'It is my great honour to introduce our new Defence teacher, Professor Snape...'
'... Death Eater...'
'... what a conk...'
'... war hero ...'
‘... who joins us today...'
Reactions ranged from incredulous gasps to a raucous, standing ovation from the Slytherins. All eyes were on Severus as he rose to take a bow. No one noticed the malicious look on the face of Slytherin's Head of House.
'I would like a word, Headmistress.'
Hermione turned on the spiral staircase. 'Of course. Come up.'
In her office, Hermione offered Severus a chair, which he declined.
'I must insist on paying for... this.' He indicated the robe he was wearing. 'And the others.'
'Sorry, you've lost me.'
'The clothing. In my wardrobe?'
'Ah.' Hermione sighed. 'I think I know what’s happened. As I'm sure you're aware, Hogwarts' house-elves are free. It was quite a struggle, though, to get them to accept any wages—until they realised what they could do with the money.'
'What?'
'They love buying people presents.'
At Severus' thunderous expression, Hermione quickly explained the situation. The elves were paid for kitchen duties and cleaning the classrooms and public areas. Life skills had been introduced into the curriculum, which meant that each House was responsible for the cleanliness of the dormitories and common rooms. Members of staff were, however, at liberty to come to private arrangements with the elves in regard to their own quarters.
'Then why was a house-elf tidying up my papers this afternoon?’
'There was? Oh, no,' said Hermione. 'And I asked them to hunt around for some unused desks and cauldrons for you...'
The house-elf bowed low. Try as she might, Hermione couldn't break them of the habit.
'How may Purdy serve Headmistress of Hogwarts? Oh-oh...' Squeaking excitedly, Purdy bowed until her nose almost touched the carpet. 'And Headmaster Snape!'
'Professor Snape,' he corrected, noticing the large badge on the elf's toga sporting the slogan "Adopt a Wizard Week". He had a bad feeling about this. 'Now, who is responsible for these new robes?'
'Purdy,' Hermione interrupted. 'Professor Snape doesn't need adopting.'
Purdy flapped her ears, but looked defiant. 'Elves is having long memories.'
Hermione sighed in defeat. 'Take us to the lab.'
The transformation was startling. Severus stared around the state of the art potions laboratory in disbelief.
'I cannot accept this,' he said.
'Purdy tells me you prevented Alecto Carrow from using her as target practice.' Hermione's voice was gentle.
Severus pointed to one of the cauldrons. 'Solid gold. Have you any idea how much one of those things costs?'
'If it makes you feel any better,' Hermione replied, 'we'll agree that the equipment belongs to Hogwarts. But as for the robes...'
'I will not accept charity—especially from a house-elf! They must take them back.'
Smiling, Hermione shook her head.
'You've got no chance,' Hermione said. 'You could Incendio them if you wanted—but they'd only replace them. Best to accept their gift with good grace.'
While they had been arguing, Purdy had taken it upon herself to fetch some tea. Silly humans. Headmaster Snape needed new robes. Elves had provided new robes. Headmaster Snape was their hero. Headmaster Snape would get whatever Headmaster Snape wanted. Sighing, she left them to it.
Hermione poured the tea, glancing at the sulking wizard at her side. 'I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell me about your research.'
With curfew approaching, Severus was contemplating taking a stroll around the corridors but was afraid of what he might find on his return. Some scatter cushions and a rug had appeared since dinner, along with a painting of the Scottish Highlands above the fireplace.
Shaking his head, he gazed out the window. The lights were still burning in the Headmistress' office two storeys up. He wondered if she always worked this late, then, remembering his own tenure as Headmaster, realised that she probably did.
'Stuck in her ivory tower with only portraits for company.'
He didn't envy her one bit.
4. Quiet Authority.
'Like shifting sands, the Dark Arts are forever changing, mutating and indestructible. They prey on your weaknesses, promising unimaginable power, wealth or whatever else your heart may desire. Do not imagine for one moment that you are immune to their siren call. You are not; no one is.'
Hermione watched from the back of the room as Severus addressed the seventh-years. She need not have worried that he’d lost his touch; the class were as enraptured as she was. But there was no sneering condescension in his voice, now, only a quiet authority that commanded attention—not to mention respect.
'Were you really a-a Death Eater, sir?' one girl (a Gryffindor, Hermione noted) had the temerity to ask.
Hermione sucked in a breath, waiting for the explosion. It never came.
'Yes,' Severus replied, calmly rolling up his left sleeve. 'I was not much older than you when I pledged my life to the service of Voldemort.'
Hermione took an involuntary step forward as the others moved in for a closer look.
'The Mark is barely visible now. But when Voldemort was alive, so was this. It chained me to him—called me to him with the most excruciating pain imaginable.'
There was no reason for her to stay, but Hermione remained glued to the spot as Severus recounted his early years as a spy.
'I will say this once so you may benefit from my experience...'
You could have heard a pin drop.
'...I was seduced by promises of wealth and power. I was stupid and naive...' The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck prickled as Severus' low, melodious voice enveloped her. She could listen to it forever— but then she always could. '...constant vigilance...' He looked directly at her and smirked.
Smiling, Hermione crept out of the classroom.
* * *
Hogwarts at night held no terrors for Severus. He was at home in its empty corridors among the whispering portraits and the restless ghosts. In years past, he had often felt as insubstantial as those long dead individuals, a shadow amongst the shades. He walked to the castle's heartbeat, breathing its breath, at one with every creak and moan, knowing when something was out of place. Like now. Someone was following him. And whoever it was had never mastered the art of stealth. The footfalls halted when he stopped. Wand drawn, Severus slipped behind a suit of armour and waited.
'Can I help you, Professor Burbage?'
Burbage eyed the wand pointed at his throat before slowly shaking his head.
Severus did not drop his guard. 'Then why were you following me?'
'I-I was merely patrolling the corridors—like you.'
'I see.' Severus inclined his head. 'Then I'll bid you good evening.' He started to walk away.
'Wait...'
Severus turned to face the younger man, knowing what was coming.
'They never found her body.' Burbage looked at him pleadingly. 'Just answer me this. Was it quick?'
Severus considered lying, but the man deserved the truth, however painful. 'No, it was not.'
Burbage clenched his fists angrily. 'And you just stood by and watched!'
Yes, and her screams for help still haunt my dreams. 'I was powerless to save her.'
'You can look me in the eye and say that?'
Severus stepped towards Burbage, entering his personal space. Burbage flinched slightly.
'Charity was a courageous witch and a valued colleague,' Severus said evenly. 'But my priority above all else was the defeat of Voldemort. Always.' He looked away. 'Many good people died. You are not the only person to have lost a loved one.'
Burbage snorted. 'What do you know of love?'
Back in his rooms, Severus checked for any recent elf activity. Other than a bottle of elf-made wine on the table next to his chair, there didn't seem to be any. He drew the cork and sniffed. After his encounter with Burbage, this was one gift he had no objection to receiving. Pouring himself a glass of the ruby-red liquid, Severus sat down and contemplated the fruit bowl that had appeared earlier.
'Sodding elves.' Putting his feet up, Severus brought the glass to his lips. Whoever had first enslaved the little buggers had probably done it out of sheer desperation.
From his position, Severus could just about see the Headmistress' office. She was burning the midnight oil again. He didn't quite know what to make of Hermione Granger and her 'reforms'. And why had she felt the need to sit in on his classes, hmm? Did she think he no longer had it in him? Had she only given him the job out of pity? Grunting, Severus raised his glass towards her window: 'To Hermione Granger. Champion of the underdog.' He knocked it back and poured himself another one, noticing for the first time that the bottle was replenishing itself.
Half an hour later, without the faintest idea of how much he'd drunk, Severus was pleasantly sozzled.
'On the sauce again, are we, Severus?'
Severus squinted at the painting over the fireplace. 'Dunno 'bout you, you old fart, but I am. Cheers.'
Dumbledore smiled benignly. 'It was kind of Hermione to take you on—although, I advised her against it. But then, she always was a soft touch for a sob story.'
Severus hurled the glass at Dumbledore's face. It bounced off the painting and smashed on the grate.
Dumbledore was unperturbed. 'That's more like the Severus Snape I knew.'
'You may have pulled the wool over Hermione's eyes,' Dumbledore continued, 'but you're not fooling me. Once a Dark wizard, always a Dark wizard.'
'Sheesh got more brainsh than you give her credit for.' Severus wished he hadn't drunk quite so much. 'N’ sheezz not bad lookin', either. Fac', I wou’n't mind warming h-her bed onn 'nocashun.'
'You disgust me.'
Nothing new there then. Sighing, Severus rested his head against the chair and was soon snoring softly. He didn't feel the gentle fingers prying the Reparo'd glass from his hand, nor the levitation spell that floated him carefully to his bed.
5. A Room with a View.
His "patch", Severus discovered, was the only place where he could get any peace. The house-elves couldn't get to it, mercifully—no doubt he would now have a garden to rival that of ancient Babylon had they been able to gain access. Grunting, he plunged the fork into the ground, then stopped momentarily to roll up his shirt-sleeves. The weather was unseasonably warm, and with hardly any wind in the courtyard, Severus was starting to sweat with the physical exertion of digging over the soil in preparation for planting.
High above, two pairs of eyes watched his endeavours with interest.
'Severus seems to be settling in well,' Minerva said.
'Hmm?' Hermione tore her eyes away from the figure toiling in the courtyard below. 'Oh, yes. Yes, he is, but...' Hermione sighed. 'He's nothing like the man I remember—it's like all the fight has been knocked out of him.'
Minerva shrugged. 'Age does that to you, and... Well, have you considered the fact he no longer has anything to fight for?'
'That's true.' Hermione looked out of the window again. 'His teaching hasn't been affected, though, and the Slytherins look up to him like he's some sort of minor deity...'
Despite his initial enthusiasm, the minor deity in question was thinking that this gardening lark was back-breaking work and regretting his decision not to employ magic. But Severus also knew that the best quality potions ingredients were grown naturally and that he would eventually reap the benefits of his labours.
At the sound of fluttering wings, Severus spun around to see a raven settling on a clod of earth. 'You again. I'm not doing this for your benefit, you know.’ Picking up an earthworm, he tossed it towards him. 'Catch.' The bird cawed and took off with his free meal.
Minerva moved to the edge of her frame. 'Judging by the way you're chewing your lip, I take it that Severus' new-found divinity is a problem.'
'Slytherin's Head of House seems to think so.'
Minerva sighed. 'Professor Burbage.'
'Yes, Professor Burbage.' Hermione turned as Purdy popped in with her morning cuppa. 'He's complaining because the kids keep going to Severus with their problems and not him. Thank you, Purdy.'
'Severus?'
Hermione blushed. 'And another thing,' she added quickly. 'How come that raven can get into the garden when I can't?'
'That's obvious,' said Dumbledore. 'Founders’ magic. It has to be.'
Purdy's ears were flapping as she poured the tea.
'So-oo, how long has it been Severus?' Minerva asked, smirking.
'Oh,' Hermione waved her had airily, 'since I've been helping him with some Arithmancy calculations—and what do you mean by "Founders’ Magic", Albus?'
Dumbledore coughed. 'Hogwarts was the culmination of a long-held dream; four lifetimes worth of ambition, energy—not to mention magic—poured into the creation of a school. That energy still lingers, which is why the castle appears sentient on occasion.'
'But that still doesn't explain...' Hermione frowned. 'Why have you never mentioned this before?'
'You never asked.'
Resolving to look into the matter further as soon as she could find a spare moment, Hermione picked her mug up and returned to the window. Purdy followed.
Watching Severus struggling to break up the hard earth, Purdy shook her head, clearly perturbed. 'Headmaster Snape is not letting elves help.'
'I'm sure he finds it therapeutic.' She smiled at the elf, who didn't look in the least bit convinced. 'Sometimes, Purdy, creating something with your hands, without using magic, gives you more of a sense of achieve—’ She froze, mug poised at her lips, as Severus began unbuttoning his shirt.
Mouth slightly agape, Hermione stared as Severus pulled his shirt out of his trousers and slipped it off. She was treated to the sight of strong, sinewy muscles and a long, pale back ending at a pair of trousers that looked set to lose its battle with gravity at any minute.
Purdy looked up at the Headmistress, down to Severus and back to Hermione again.
Hermione rubbed the back of her neck as the hairs there started to prickle.
Severus carried on digging.
Hermione took a large gulp of tea.
With a broad grin on her face, Purdy disappeared abruptly.
Licking her lips, Hermione watched mesmerised as Severus paused to wipe his brow, conjure a glass of water and thirstily drink it down.
Someone coughed behind her.
'When you've finished ogling the arse of our illustrious former headmaster, I have something I would like to discuss with you.'
Caught red-handed, Hermione flushed. 'What is it, Phineas?'
'It's about that Mu-uggle-born you've put in charge of my house.'
Hermione sighed. 'We've had this conversation before. I know you don't like it—'
'Not that,' Phineas interrupted impatiently. 'I can't get into the common room. He's removed the portrait of Betty the Bloodthirsty.'
Hermione rubbed her temple, feeling the beginnings of a headache. 'I’m sure Professor Burbage has good reason—’
'According to Betty,' Phineas interrupted again,' who, incidentally, is now residing in a broom cupboard, it was for “restoration".'
'There you are, then.'
'Since when has a magical portrait needed "restoration"!' he spat. 'He's up to something. I don't like him, and I don't trust him.'
'I know; you've told me countless times.’ Hermione sighed. 'But he's doing a good job—‘
'Tell you what...' Phineas twiddled with the ring on his finger, 'ask him about Betty, and I'll tell you about the Raven.'
Purdy returned to the kitchens, a plan forming in her head. She knew it wasn't an elf's place to interfere in a wizard’s personal life, but Headmaster Snape was dear to her. They shared a bond, even though he was unaware of it. And he'd made his feelings clear thanks to the Vinoveritas she'd given him... And what Headmaster Snape wanted...
Mind made up, Purdy grabbed a rolling pin and banged it on the nearest table. The usual chattering ceased as the elves looked to her expectantly. 'Purdy has good news.' She beamed happily. 'Headmistress Granger is fancying Headmaster Snape!'
A/N: Hugs and kisses to the very gifted Camillo for the drawing.
6.Tough at the Top.
Slam!
Albus rocked his frame in his mirth. 'You old fraud. The Raven's nothing more than a legend!'
'Like the Chamber of Secrets was, you mean?' Phineas glared angrily at him.
'You've been at the linseed oil again, haven't you?' Albus retorted. 'If you think Salazar's familiar is still guarding his house a thousand years after his departure, I'd say you were due for a new coat of varnish.'
'Gentlemen, please,' Minerva cut in.
'Slytherin's in danger,' Phineas snarled, getting to his feet. 'The Raven's return proves it, and there's only one person I trust to do something about it.'
* * *
There were few occasions these days that warranted a trip to the dungeons. Never Hermione's favourite part of the castle, she nonetheless invariably felt nostalgic for her schooldays whenever she descended the stairs, remembering times past when she and her fellow Gryffindors would huddle together with unease as they entered Slytherin territory.
Nodding briefly at the Bloody Baron, Hermione entered the Potions classroom. Other than some posters on the walls demonstrating various cutting techniques and aide-memoires stressing the lethal consequences of combining certain ingredients, it was virtually unchanged. Hermione smiled in approval at these sensible innovations as she glanced about...
'Headmistress.' Professor Burbage shot to his feet. 'Is something wrong?'
'No. Please,' Hermione said, moving towards his desk. 'There's no need to get up. It's a small matter. Phineas Black asked me to stop by.'
'Phineas...?’ Burbage frowned. 'Oh, the portrait.' He grinned from under his floppy fringe.
Hermione couldn't help but smile back. Gary Burbage was only a few years older than her; tall and good looking in a puppy-dog sort of way—and he knew it. 'Phineas may be a portrait,' she said, 'but he's given me wise counsel over the years, and I consider him a friend.'
Hermione took a deep breath. 'It's about Betty the Bloodthirsty—'
'Have you ever seen that-that thing?'
'No, I haven't.' Betty had always been away whenever she'd visited the Slytherin common room; whether she was deliberately hiding from her, Hermione didn't know. Keeping tabs on the castle's paintings was virtually impossible, anyway; she'd tried cataloguing them once, but their inhabitants wouldn't stay still long enough.
'It's the stuff of nightmares.’ Burbage ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. 'I mean, would you want a vampire about to plunge a fork into a heart—a still beating heart—hanging on your wall?'
Remembering the skull candle-holders she'd personally destroyed, Hermione shuddered. 'I understand, and I've every faith in you, Gary. Reforming Slytherin house was one of my main priorities, as you know. But I have to keep the old guard happy.' Smiling, she turned to leave.
'Talking of the "old guard", have you had a word with... him?'
Hermione paused, hand on the doorknob. 'If you mean Professor Snape, no, not yet.' She glanced back. 'Was there anything else?'
'That offer of dinner still stands.'
Hermione rolled her eyes. 'And the answer's still no.'
He laughed. 'You can't blame me for trying.'
* * *
Feeling heaps better for a shower, Severus towelled himself dry and padded into his bedroom. As usual, a clean robe and underwear had been laid out ready for him. He dressed hastily, feeling ravenous after his exertions and ready for dinner. Lacing up his boots, he heard someone call out his name. Severus groaned. 'What is it Phineas?'
'Snape? Where the devil are you?'
Smirking, Severus leant against the door frame and watched Phineas unsuccessfully trying to beat off a swarm of insects. ‘Here.’
'Couldn't you have gone for a nice woodland scene?' Phineas grumbled. 'A pox on these midges!'
'The Raven's just a myth.' Severus shook his head in disbelief. ‘It simply isn’t possible.’
'Well... ' Phineas shrugged. 'Granted the story's been embellished somewhat over the years—you know how Gryffindors love legends and that sort of thing—and talking of Gryffindors—’
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus sighed. 'What's she done now?'
'What's she done?' Phineas spluttered. 'Apart from appointing a-a non-Slytherin as Head of House, destroying the common room's decor and preventing me from keeping an eye on things, you mean?'
'There's nothing I can do about it, Phineas.'
'Just talk to her, Severus, please...'
* * *
The thing with elves, Severus thought, was that they took things to extremes. He'd casually mentioned that he enjoyed the odd glass of scotch, and within the hour, a drinks cabinet had appeared filled with bottles of some of the finest single malts ever distilled. Pouring himself a large one and sitting down, Severus waited for the inevitable. While he had no wish to get involved in school politics, it seemed he had no choice in the matter. Phineas' concerns weren't unfounded; Severus, too, was uneasy.
The flames in the grate flared green.
'Come through, Hermione. I've been expecting you.'
'I'd read about it in Hogwarts: a History, of course.' Hermione sipped her whisky.
'Naturally.'
'But I never gave it any credence.' She turned her gaze to the fire.
Severus watched the flickering light softening her features, fascinated by the flecks of copper and gold in the wild mess surrounding her head.
'Do you think there's any truth in it?'
Startled out of his musings, he nodded. 'Salazar did leave his familiar behind, that's true enough, but it wasn't immortal. Phineas thinks the bird could be a descendent.'
Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'It still all sounds pretty far-fetched to me.'
'You must understand that Phineas comes from another time—'
'You don't need to remind me.' Hermione sighed. 'I know he's not happy with my reforms, but they're necessary.' When Severus remained silent, she continued, 'It's always seemed to me that Slytherin never quite... belonged—it was always them and us. Well, no more. I want a united school, and I want Muggles to be understood and Muggleborns to be welcomed. Everyone has a contribution to make.'
'A noble sentiment and, yes, you are right,' Severus conceded. Slytherin has always been... the outcast, but an outsider simply cannot understand our traditions.'
‘Ah... traditions.’ Feeling awkward, Hermione stared into her glass. 'I’m sorry, but Professor Burbage is afraid you're undermining his authority—'
'Preposterous.' Severus snorted. 'I cannot prevent the little miscreants from approaching me, but I refuse to be inconvenienced by the trivial problems of love-sick adolescents. I always used to let Poppy deal with that sort of thing.'
Hermione giggled.
'And as every Slytherin is sworn to secrecy regarding in-house matters, I cannot for the life of me understand why he's so worried—unless, of course, he has something to hide.'
'An oath? You're not serious.'
'Oh, but I am.'
'Salazar was probably paranoid, but he didn't trust the other founders to respect his beliefs once he'd gone,' Severus explained. 'Which was why he placed the dormitories and common room underground—away from prying eyes. Originally, they were housed in their own tower—just like Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.'
'And Hufflepuff?' Hermione asked intrigued.
'Badgers will be badgers.' The corner of his mouth twitched. 'But, yes... Them and us...' He sighed. 'So, before Salazar left, the Slytherins swore an oath of allegiance, and his familiar remained as his eyes and ears waiting for his return. But, of course, that never happened...'
* * *
It had been an enjoyable evening, Severus thought, climbing into bed. The Headmistress was surprisingly convivial company; she even shared his love of good whisky. Who would have believed it? He stared at the canopy a while, contemplating their earlier discussion. She was at least aware of his misgivings—whether or not she chose to act remained to be seen. Yawning, he turned over.
In the living room, Purdy appeared and began tidying up. Two glasses? She sniffed. Headmistress Granger's perfume! Tip-toeing towards the bedroom, she stopped at the door, wondering if they'd... but all she could hear was snoring.
Disappointed, Purdy shook her head and sighed at the sleeping wizard. What was wrong with humans? Why couldn’t they sort out their own affairs?
Severus stirred and muttered something unintelligible. Well aware of his nightmares, Purdy crooned a lullaby until he was sleeping peaceful again. It wasn't right; Headmaster Snape deserved to have someone to love in his life, but short of locking him in a room with Headmistress Granger... Purdy's eyes widened, wondering if she dared. She would have to consult the others, but it was, at least, a plan. Snapping her fingers, she Apparated back to the kitchens.
7. Mysteries and Complications.
He'd dreamed he'd died again: Agony. Green eyes. Lily! Reaching, closer, closer... Almost touching... then... Singing? The humming of bees? Beautiful. Angelic... 'Come back'... Turning, turning... The hospital wing. Agony... Severus groaned in that half-conscious state between sleep and wakefulness, trying to move and finding he couldn't. Like an upended tortoise, he lay stranded on his back, feeling as if he'd been kicked by a Hippogriff.
He strained for his wand to Summon the potion he always kept for these episodes. It took him a full minute to realise his muscle spasms had nothing to do with the Cruciatus Curse.
Gritting his teeth, Severus rolled onto his side and stuck his legs over the edge of the bed. From there, he managed to push himself upright and get to his feet. Wondering how he'd got so unfit that an afternoon's gardening could make him seize up like this, he shuffled towards the bathroom, wincing with every step. Moving eased the pain a bit; experimentally, he flexed his back, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror. A grumpy, middle-aged wizard gazed back at him. Never his best in the morning anyway, his grim expression was not doing him any favours.
Later, after performing his morning ablutions, Severus thought about Hermione again. He had to concede she was agreeable company—and rather attractive in her own way. It was a bugger she was so much younger than him, though—and his boss, to boot. Even in the unlikely event she was attracted to him, any sort of relationship, other than a strictly professional one, would be totally unethical. Just his luck, really; unattainable women seemed to be a common thread running through his life. And then there was Burbage... Something definitely off there... Perhaps a chat with Betty was in order...
Rain was lashing against the window. Tucking his wand in his pocket, Severus glanced outside. Where yesterday there had been dry earth, there were now muddy puddles. ‘No digging today, then.’ Thankfully. He could stay indoors and spend some time sketching out the layout of the knot garden instead. Severus was quite looking forward to the actual planting: Pomona Sprout had volunteered to help during the holidays, and she’d also promised to donate several rare specimens to get him started...
At the sound of a hoarse ‘cr-u-uk’, Severus turned his head sharply. ‘And who or what are you?’ he murmured.
* * *
'Corvus... As good a name as any, don't you think?'
The raven bobbed his head, fixing one beady eye on the bacon rind Severus was holding out to him.
'Come on,' he coaxed. 'You know you want it.'
The bird, however, didn't budge. Sighing, Severus placed his offering on the window sill and stepped back. Corvus immediately hopped forward to claim his treat.
It had taken Severus almost a week to get this far. Evidently, Corvus was suspicious of humans—which seemed to rule out the Raven of legend theory. So how could it penetrate the wards surrounding the courtyard...?
'So. That is the mysterious raven.'
Severus froze. 'It has been a long time, Lady Elizabeth.'
A deep, throaty chuckle sent shivers down his spine. 'Always such a polite boy. Turn around. Let me look at you.'
Smirking, Severus walked over to the fireplace and bowed. 'My lady. Lovely as ever, I see.'
'Flatterer.' Betty the Bloodthirsty smiled, showing her fangs. 'And you, my pale and interesting one? Are you married yet?'
'Who would have me?'
Betty cocked her head. 'Phineas tells me the Headmistress is enamoured of you.'
'What? I... That's just malicious gossip. Take no notice of him.'
Betty laughed. 'I think the gentleman doth protest too much.'
'Have you two nothing better to discuss?' Scowling, Severus folded his arms. 'Now. What's going on in Slytherin?'
'I wish I knew,' Betty replied. 'I went out for the evening to visit the Fat Lady—she was hosting a whist drive—and when I returned, I'd been evicted.'
'He must have had a reason...'
The vampire raised an eyebrow. 'Other than isolating Slytherin from the rest of the school, you mean?'
'But why?' He frowned. 'Think, Betty. Did you overhear something untoward?'
'If I remember anything, I'll let you know.'
* * *
Sighing, Severus removed his cloak and hung it behind the door. Patrolling the corridors hadn't helped to clear his head—quite the opposite; the number of Slytherins he'd caught breaking curfew, and the resulting deduction of house points, had only served to darken his mood.
As usual, a decanter of Vinoveritas was waiting for him. The elf-made wine was a gentler alternative to taking Dreamless Sleep, he'd found, but was best drunk alone in any case. In company, Vinoveritas' renowned tongue-loosening properties could prove extremely embarrassing to the unwary.
Feeling quite drained, he poured himself a glass and sat down...
Purdy nervously tip-toed towards the sleeping figure. She hoped Severus hadn't drunk more than a glass or two—her plan depended on him waking up. A less than perfect Levitation Spell and a rough shake as he lifted off the chair had the desired effect.
'What the...? YOU!' Severus yelled, crashing to the floor.
Purdy squeaked in alarm and rushed forward to help.
'I should’ve known,' he muttered. 'Those times I couldn't recall going to bed... It was you, wasn't it?' Severus reached for his wand. 'Take your pervy little mits off me and GET OUT!'
Purdy took the hint.
Hermione had just put her book on the bed-side table and was about to settle down for the night when she was startled by a very agitated house-elf.
'Headmistress Granger must come quick!'
'Whatever's the matter, Purdy?'
'Headmaster Snape is-is—'
'What Purdy? Is he hurt?' Summoning her dressing gown, Hermione scrambled out of bed and put it on.
'Headmistress must come now.' Purdy grabbed Hermione's hand and Disapparated before she had time to object.
Reappearing in Severus' living room, Hermione worriedly took in the scene. Crouching beside him, she touched his forehead.
'Severus? What happened? Talk to me?'
Severus groaned.
'Do you want me to get Poppy?'
'No.' If he gave monosyllabic answers, he reasoned, he'd be all right. Severus peered at her. 'You're wearing your night things.'
'Well spotted.' She pursed her lips, recognising the squinting gaze of a man attempting to focus both eyes in the same direction. 'Have you been drinking?'
He nodded.
'Right, then. Let's get you to bed. Purdy—'
'Not her,' he snarled. 'She's the one who dropped me. But you,' Severus smirked, 'can put me to bed anytime you like.' Shit.
'Severus...'
'And you can stay—seeing as you're dressed for it.' Shit. Shit.
Severus kept his mouth tightly closed as Hermione, who was trying not to laugh, levitated him to the bedroom.
'Purdy, some Sober-up Potion. Quickly, please.'
'No.' Severus grabbed her hand. 'I'll sleep better like this, but don't go... just yet.'
'Okay.' She sat down on the edge of the bed. 'Just how much did you have to drink?'
'Not nearly enough.' Severus brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. 'O Hermione fair... with the cinnamon hair, and orbs of molten chocolate...'
Good God. 'Purdy! What the hell did you put in that wine!'
There was no reply.
'Give us a kiss.'
'You're really pissed, aren't you?'
'Yes, and I'm really ugly, but at least I'll be sober in the morning.’ He frowned. That didn’t sound right.
'I think you're supposed to say "and you're ugly, but at least I'll be sober in the morning".'
'No...' That wasn’t right, either. 'You're not ugly; you're beautiful.'
Now he was hallucinating. 'Purdy! Come back here! Professor Snape is ill.' Extricating her hand, Hermione got up and walked over to the door. It wouldn't open.
'Purdy!'
'It would appear, Headmistress,' said a voice behind her, 'that we have been set up.'
8. A Taste of Honey.
He was standing much too close, breathing down her neck. This had gone far enough. Hermione spun around, the sudden movement causing Severus to sway unsteadily. He flailed at the door to brace himself.
'Don't just stand there!' she yelled angrily. 'Get your wand out and do something!'
He let out a strangled snort that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. 'Oh, Professor Granger. I didn't know you cared!'
'That-that was... puerile,' Hermione said, horrified and more than a little concerned. She knew he'd been on the elf-made wine but still. Paying her compliments and now giggling? Had he been drugged?
'What on earth did she put in that wine?'
'Don't know.' Severus giggled again. 'But I'm going to kill the little bastard for this.' He placed his other hand on the door, trapping Hermione between them. 'But in the meantime...' He leaned in closer.
'No,' Hermione said, trying to shove him off. 'Not like this.'
'We may as well,' he whispered, pressing against her. 'She's not going to let us out until we do.'
Hermione frowned. So that's what this was all about. 'Purdy! If you think I'm going to sleep with a drunk, you're out of your tiny mind!'
Severus winced. 'Do you have to shout?'
'Pur—!' A phial appeared, hovering just above Severus' shoulder. He ignored it, suddenly fascinated by a lock of Hermione's hair. Pulling the corkscrew curl, he watched it spring back into place before repeating the experiment. Lily's hair had been poker straight but coarse to the touch while this...
'Drink.'
Severus downed the potion absentmindedly. How can something that resembles barbed wire feel this soft?
'What happened to "Hermione fair with the cinnamon hair"?'
Bugger. Had he said that out loud? Sheepishly, he released the curl. 'I... apologise.'
Hermione smirked. 'Sober now?'
'Very.'
'Good.'
She felt so curvy and comfy and smelled heavenly. Reluctant to move away, Severus rattled the doorknob half-heartedly. 'Still locked.'
'So I see.' Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. 'Severus—'
'You said you wouldn't spend the night with a drunk...'
'I did, didn't I?'
'I'm not drunk anymore.'
'No...' She sighed. 'But... this is totally unethical.'
'Yes. Probably a very bad idea.' Burying his nose in her hair, he inhaled deeply, committing her scent to memory. It looked like he'd be sleeping on a Transfigured couch tonight.
'And it's been a while...'
Then again... 'For me too...'
'But...'
'But...?'
Hermione swallowed. Their noses were almost touching. He looked so... hopeful, but she knew the next move was hers.
'Nothing.'
'Then, if you’ve no further objections...'
Severus brushed his lips gently over hers; they were remarkably soft. Moaning, Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him towards her. Unsurprisingly, he tasted of wine and sober-up potion, but that didn't put her off. On the contrary, she could usually tell from a first kiss how much she was likely to enjoy what was to follow and, judging by the way her knees were trembling, it all boded very well indeed.
He was drowning, or still intoxicated—or both. She was whimpering and kissing him back with a fervour that was driving him to distraction. If she called it off now... Severus tugged at the belt of her dressing-gown, and she moaned into his mouth. Encouraged, he snaked his hand inside, feeling the heat of her body under the cotton nightdress.
Hermione broke the kiss. 'Sorry about... the passion-killing... nightwear,' she panted.
'I forgive you,' he said, lifting her into his arms. 'I'd no idea you had a thing for tartan.'
'Minerva's last Christmas present to me.'
'That explains a lot.'
~~HGSS~~
Lily was smiling, trying to say something. He reached towards her, and for once she didn't pull away. She felt so real. So warm, so inviting...
'Oh, Lily...'
When he awoke, the warm body he'd fallen asleep next to was missing. Confused, he turned over to see a tartan-clad figure perched on the edge of the bed. For a second, he thought it was Minerva.
'Last night was a mistake.'
'What?'
'I'm not Lily Evans.'
'Hermione, I—'
'You don't have to explain.' She sighed. 'Lily will always be nineteen to you. Forever young, beautiful. Perfect. I can't compete with that.'
Severus sat up, intent on pulling her back into bed, but she recoiled. 'Hermione, please—'
'I don't regret what happened,' she interrupted. 'Please don't think that. We're both adults. We're both more than capable of putting this down to experience and moving on. Given time, we can even become friends.' Hermione stood up and walked towards the door. She had to get out before she made a complete fool of herself. Mercifully, it was unlocked. 'I'll see you at breakfast.'
'Wait.'
But she didn't look back.
Severus flopped back on his pillow, covering his eyes with both hands. 'Oh, bollocks!'
Back in her rooms, Hermione showered and dressed hurriedly. Being used as a substitute for a teenage wank fantasy had hurt more than she cared to admit, and no doubt she'd have plenty of time to dwell on it later. Once she'd had something to eat and a strong cup of tea. Then, maybe, she'd owl the boys and arrange a boozy night out. Or, maybe, she'd accept Gary's invitation to dinner. Yes, why not? Severus Snape wasn't the only fish in the sea. But first there was the small matter of...
'Purdy! Get your sorry arse in here, now!'
Purdy appeared, shaking like a leaf.
Hermione took a deep breath, reining in her anger. There was no need to frighten the elf. 'What you did was wrong,' Hermione said quietly. 'And I would avoid Professor Snape for some time, if I were you.'
'Purdy is sorry, Headmistress.' She looked close to tears. 'But Headmaster Snape said—'
'It doesn't matter what he said, Purdy. Promise me you won't do anything like that again.'
She hung her head. 'Purdy promises. On elves' honour.'
'Then you may go.'
'But... Vinoveritas is always speaking the truth.'
'What...?' Hermione fair...
But Purdy had gone.
9. The Key Question.
Well, that had been an unmitigated disaster, even if he had enjoyed himself immensely at the time. Vigorously rubbing his wet head with a towel, Severus padded out of his bathroom, wondering how he could have been so stupid as to think...? He'd offended someone he was starting to like—a lot. Would she let him explain? Things could get really awkward, if not; he may even have to resign—shagging the boss was definitely not in the job description. He sighed. Wasn't it bloody typical? Just when things were going really well, he'd managed to balls things up completely.
And it was all that sodding elf's fault!
Severus wasn't expecting Purdy to show her face, so he was completely unprepared for what greeted him in his bedroom. He covered himself quickly with the towel.
The elf nodded. 'Good morning, sir. Will it be the black...?' He held up a robe in his right hand. 'Or, the... er, black?'
'Who are you?' Severus asked, indicating the garment of his choice.
'Eljay, sir,' the elf replied, laying it out carefully. 'Your new valet.'
'Valet?' Severus choked. 'What do you mean "valet"? You're an elf! And why are you talking so peculiarly?'
Eljay drew himself up to his full three feet. 'If elves are ever to be accepted by wizarding society, we must learn to speak properly. Why, only the other day, Deputy Minister Weasley—'
'Percy?'
'Yes—was discussing the importance of improving staff efficiency with the Headmistress and the necessity of implementing sound management structures and instigating time and motion studies. He was very impressed with my suggestion that we all go on a team building exercise in the Cairngorms.'
Severus was losing the will to live. 'Gobbledegook.'
'I think you'll find that's the goblins— Oh, it's that dratted bird again...'
'Car—uuk, car—uuk.'
Eljay scurried over to the window, waving his arms at the raven. 'Shoo. Go away, you noisy creature.'
'No!' Severus cried, racing after him. He stuck his head out of the window. 'Corvus, come back!' Then he turned on Eljay. 'You idiot, I've been trying to tame him for ages.'
At Severus' call, Corvus wheeled in a graceful circle, then settled back on the window ledge, his feathers ruffling in indignation. 'Car—ruuk, carr—uuuuk.'
Severus sighed. 'I wish I knew what you were trying to tell me...'
'He says he's got something for you.'
'You speak Raven?'
Eljay shrugged.
Corvus stuck his beak under his wing and fished around in his plumage. To Severus' astonishment, he plucked out a golden key and deposited it on the window sill.
'What the...?' Severus picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It looked very old, but not terribly worn. Noticing the initials “S.S." embossed on the top, he let out a low whistle. 'And what am I supposed to do with this?' he muttered to himself.
Corvus bobbed his head twice and flew off.
So... now he had a key. All he had to do was find the lock.
~HGSS~
On entering the Great Hall, Severus was none too pleased to see Hermione deep in conversation with Gary Burbage. She touched his arm to emphasise some point or other, and Severus felt an inexplicable twinge of jealousy. They look like a couple, he thought and promptly admonished himself for being so foolish.
Burbage stood up and left the High Table as he approached, and Severus did not hesitate in taking his place. Turning towards him, Hermione smiled.
'Good morning, Severus.'
Not the warmest smile in the world, granted, but it wasn't an unfriendly one, either. He could live with that.
'Good morning, Hermione. May I have a word with you?'
'Of course.'
'I have news of the Raven.' Was it his imagination or did she look a little bit disappointed?
'Oh?'
'Yes. He turned up today with this.' He passed Hermione the key and explained what had happened.
'Good heavens,' she said, examining it. 'S.S... Salazar's?'
'Well, it certainly isn't mine.'
'Any ideas where it might fit?'
'None at all.'
'Hmm. Would you like me to ask Phineas and the others?'
Severus nodded and helped himself to some pumpkin juice. 'I think that's as good a starting place as any.'
~HGSS~
As the portraits chatted excitedly amongst themselves, Hermione rubbed her temples and reminded herself there was only one week to go before the holidays.
'I believe it would be safe to assume,' Phineas offered, 'that if it has anything to do with Salazar, the lock is going to be extremely hard to find.'
'Yes.' Hermione sighed. 'I think we can all agree on that. Anything else?'
'In my experience,' Albus replied, 'the castle gives up its secrets when the time is right or when there is a need—'
'Exactly,' Phineas interrupted. 'And no prizes for guessing where the problem lies.'
Here we go again, Hermione thought. 'Phineas, Professor Burbage assures me that—'
'With the greatest respect, Headmistress,' Phineas said testily, 'the castle itself is trying to tell you something. I suggest you listen to it.' And with that, he got up and left.
The rest of the week passed fairly uneventfully. Without any real idea where to start, looking for the mystery door—or whatever the key opened—was pretty pointless. Hermione had not found the time to really talk to Severus, either—and she did want to clear the air. Alone in her study, she considered her next move.
'I suppose an apology would have been too much to expect,' she muttered.
'That boy has never found it easy to admit his mistakes.'
Startled, Hermione's head snapped up. In a painting of a Norwegian fjord (deliberately chosen to discourage visitors), Hermione was surprised to see the figure of an unknown woman dressed in Elizabethan costume gazing at her intently.
'It is fortunate I do not feel the cold.'
'And you are...?'
Smiling, Betty inclined her head politely. 'Elizabeth Cavendish-Desang.'
'Lady Elizabeth...?'
'Indeed. And now that the formalities are out of the way, let me tell you about Lily Evans...'