The funeral portrait by the French press, Chapter 7.
Every single sound within the flat echoes the sound ringing
out all-encompassing. She has been waiting for what
seems like months, but likely has only been a few minutes.
Ever since she discovered the truth, time has felt off.
Strange. The longer it drags out, the
more knotted her stomach feels. She is nervous of course,
because of the enormity of what they are going to undertake, but
there is something more. It seems viewing her memories
can only mean one thing. Severus will see everything, all
of her thoughts, all of her feelings, the lot of it will be
on display, and this terrifies her.
Drawing upon some old memories from childhood, she crosses her
legs beneath her and closes her eyes, resting her hands on her
knees as she attempts meditation, focusing on her
breaths. It quells the immediate ache in
her belly, and when she opens her eyes, she gasps audibly upon
seeing several seated across from her.
Hello. He greets calmly.
Hello. She responds, unfolding her legs
self consciously. Have you been waiting long?
He asks, dark eyes not leaving her even for a second.
I don't know. Hermione tells him truthfully.
He nods at her. I know this is likely the last
thing you want to do, but we need more information and I
strongly feel that there is something important residing
within one of them. I understand.
She says quietly. She knows that Severus would
never put her through this if there wasn't a need for it.
He wasn't cruel to her, not anymore.
I don't really know how we're going to do this, but I trust
you. He stares at her with a
thoughtful expression for a moment before saying.
I can try to explain to you what he, the Patil, and I have
surmised may lead us to the memories we seek.
Go on, from the times I have been here, I have managed to
conclude that I am either unable to leave this flat or that
something is tethering me to the space.
I suspect that might not be the case should you invite me to
leave it, he explains. If your mind is as organised as
I suspect it might be, this building may contain more than
just your safeguard itself, whether you are locked away
either by the spell or for your own protection.
So some of the other flats might contain my memories?
She asks, intrigued by this idea despite her fears.
He nods. I do not know in which manner
they will be organised, but I am going to suggest that we begin
lower down and perhaps work our way up through the building so
that we can gauge what direction to go in.
That is, of course, assuming my theory about leaving the flat
with your permission is correct. That does seem to be a sound
premise. She agrees before biting
nervously on her bottom lip. Do we start now or are you
certain you want to do this? He asks.
She pauses before nodding, perhaps a little too firmly to
seem genuine. Of course.
He looks unconvinced. Hermione, if you are concerned
about your privacy being invaded.
He begins, but she is quick to interrupt him.
No, She says quickly. She is nervous about what he
will see and every part of her wants to delay, but this is the
only way she might ever be free again.
I'm not worried about that, I can do this.
We start whenever you feel comfortable.
He tells her, looking every bit as serious as he always does.
Gods, she misses him, being trapped in her own mind without
even a shallow fake. Severus is exhausting and
miserable, but he is here now, with her, and she's wasting
their precious time together, worrying about how lonely she'll
be when he leaves. Resolutely, she stands and
extends her hand to him, which he takes as he moves to join
her. They walk towards the door and
she pauses with her fingers resting on the handle.
She opens her mouth to apologise for hesitating, but Severus
wordlessly wraps his fingers of his free hand around hers and
together they turn it. Hermione gazes up at him in
appreciation and the door opens with little resistance.
Keeping his hand in hers, she walks through the doorway and
tugs him along with her, and he is able finally to leave the
flat with her. It seems your theory was
correct. She says, and he nods
thoughtfully. Now that he is free of the
confines of her flat, she relinquishes the grip on his
hand with some reluctance. He doesn't disappear, nor is he
immediately drawn back to the room they've exited.
They both breathe out a sigh of relief.
Now the real work must begin. Let's head to the lift and
decide where to go from there. Severus suggests.
He presses the button to descend when they arrive, and it's
surreal. She can remember going through
the motions, standing and waiting for the lift in this
very spot, day in and day out, when she had believed the dream
to be the real world. Time feels slower now, like she
is walking into waves and they just keep pushing back against
her. It hasn't been that long since,
surely, but it still feels like an unfamiliar, faded memory
stepping in. Once the doors have opened, they
go down several floors until they reach the first level.
She hasn't been on this floor, Hermione realizes.
Even when she was working, she would come and go from her flat
to the ground floor, never interacting with any of the
other nameless inhabitants, just going about her own business.
She wonders whether it's her mind or the spell that populates
her dream but pushes the intrusive thought away.
It's not important now, Hermione.
Severus voice cuts through the silence, reminding her of that
task. She lifts her eyes up to his
face and sees it as lined with concern for her, chiding herself
internally for causing him to worry.
She shakes her head and gestures for them to move towards the
hall of doors, awaiting them. Choose adore.
He encourages her. I hardly know where to start.
She bites her lip anxiously as her eyes flick back and forth to
either side of the hall. She clenches her fists at her
sides to strengthen her resolve and takes a few steps forward,
choosing the second door on the right hand side.
This one will have to do. When her hand touches the
doorknob, it feels cold and unwelcoming.
She ignores that feeling and turns it anyway, pushing the
door open so they can venture in inside the room.
It is, as Severus and Padma had speculated, an old memory
beginning to play out for them, as if they're in some sort of
virtual reality game. Except not only were they
watching the events play out, but the emotions she was
experiencing at the time are also very apparent.
Confusion, disbelief, hurt, anger.
It's very like being struck with an empathy charm and being
forced to feel the emotions of the caster, She muses.
Chancing a glance at Severus, she sees his mask is fixed
firmly in place. This was.
Was this the day after? He trailed off, Shaking his
head, she sucks in a sharp breath and nods.
The fallout after, well, after. She responds, turning her gaze
back to the memory unfolding. It's been years since she's
thought about this. The day after Albert Stumbledore
was felled at the hand of the man who they did not know at the
time was his most loyal servant and confidant.
She recalls being shocked and angered by the knowledge that
Severus Snape, a wizard she had defended to exhaustion against
claims that he was evil from Harry and Ron, was truly someone
they couldn't trust. Now she knows differently.
Now she knows the lengths to which he strived to end the war
and restore the power balance to the side of light.
Now he is the one person she would trust to the ends of the
earth. Harry, I beg you, let it go.
If Snape killed Dumbledore, as you say, he is far too dangerous
for an unqualified teenage wizard in training to face off
against young Hermione pleads. She and Severa stand and watch
as her younger self argues with Harry in the Gryffindor common
room. She wonders if he knows the
entire school has been mobilized to return home, closing early in
the light of the events. His face remains stoic as they
listen on in silence. I vowed I would kill him, Harry
argues angrily. I don't care how long it takes,
don't be ridiculous. She snaps.
Hermione, no. She interrupts, cutting off his
tirade. Listen to me carefully.
There are a lot more lives at stake here and we have to
consider this. You and I know very well that we
won't be coming back here next year, and we have to be sensible
about our next steps now. Dumbledore was not a stupid man,
and he put his trust in members of the Order.
We should do the same. Beside her, Severus touches her
elbow and nods his head towards the door they had come from.
She follows him back out into the hall, an apology poised on
the tip of her tongue. She wishes he hadn't seen that,
wishes she had been clued in enough to know better than to
assume Severus would betray them.
As the door shuts, Severus holds up a hand to stall her as if he
knows what she is about to say. There is no need to apologise to
me, Hermione. He tells her.
You were meant to distrust me. Then it just goes to show I
performed my task exactly as the Headmaster intended.
Her shoulders sag. You know me too well.
His deep rumbling chuckle rings in her ears as they move back
towards the lifts. We need to see what the next
floor has to offer to confirm, but I suspect that the levels
represent certain years of your life or important recent events.
Do you think it's worthwhile skipping a couple of levels?
She asks as he punches the button to go up to the next
floor. She isn't certain if he is
experiencing the emotional transfer as well, but if that is
the case, the fewer of her emotions he is forced to
experience, the better. Why don't we wait and see what
this floor has to offer first and make a decision from there?
Severus suggests as they step out and begin walking along the
hall of doors. She chooses a door, and this
time the memory unfolds almost the second they enter, showing
them a particularly poignant date.
The day Severus returned to the Order at Grim Old Place.
All of the bodies moving around her are a blur of motion and
sound as they swirl into being while she and Severus watch.
Her younger self is standing at the bedside of Severus, who is
writhing in pain, his dark eyes shut as his jaw clenches while
he fights off a scream. Miss Granger?
Hermione, restrain him. It's going to be a lot more
painful for a short while as we get to the potions down his
throat. Poppy Pomfrey directs
Betrivekus. Don't, Alice, Young Hermione
incants. His movements cease, though his
dark eyes fly open to stare up at her through his pain.
They watch as the two witches work in tandem to drape potions
soaked gauze over his severely burnt arms and legs.
While the healing potions do their work from the inside,
Hermione can sense the emotions radiating off her younger self.
Relief, fear, shock, vindication.
She wonders if Severus is experiencing them too, but as
usual, his face gives nothing away.
Have we done enough, young Kermione asks once Madame
Pomfrey places a cool damp towel over the forehead of their now
unconscious patient. We will have to wait and see
once he wakes up. The medi witch admits.
At least for the time being, he is stable.
It is going to be a very long difficult recovery for him.
If you ever need any help. The younger witch begins.
I'll ask for you. Nods Poppy Pomfrey.
You are a fair sight butter at potion making for one so young,
and your assistance will be immeasurably helpful.
The scene fades as the two witches release him from the
body binding spell and leave him to rest while the medicine does
its work. Hermione leaves the room first
this time and Severus follows close behind her.
Inside the lift, the silence stretches until finally she
breaks it. Can you feel them?
Feel what exactly? My emotions in the memories.
She presses. He pauses for a moment, looking
thoughtful before he nods. I can and not forms in her gut
instantaneously. Oh.
She breathes out. That is not the answer she was
hoping for. The more time they had spent
together, the stronger her emotions had grown with regards
to him. She is petrified now that he
will be able to truly understand the depth of her feelings for
him and he'll laugh in her face. He wouldn't do that, she chides
herself, and he likely wouldn't. He's too emotionally closed off.
He would more likely become distant towards her.
It would be foolish to expect otherwise.
Too distracted by her thoughts, Hermione forgets about skipping
a floor and meanders to the closest door, pulling it open to
step through. The memory that faces them is
one that she is more familiar with, one she has played over
and over in her head through the last couple of years whenever
she needs a reminder that Severus could never love her in
return. His anger and vitriol that day
had been quite visceral. She knows deep down that with
time, he had certainly become friendlier towards her.
They were on a first name basis and had lived together for more
than 12 months after all. In the memory, Minerva Mcgonigal
bustles into the room and addresses a recovering Severus
as Hermione stands off to the side.
What did Poppy send you in Good cop?
Couldn't convince me, so she sent in bad cop?
Snape hisses, his voice harsh with anger filling the space.
I do not understand why Miss Granger should be made to live
with me. She is the most familiar with
your injuries and we cannot send Poppy with you, she is needed
elsewhere. Severus.
Minerva Mcgonigal snaps. I know this is not an ideal
situation, but having to split off into smaller groups is not
exactly how we envision this going either.
Mad I would have. Alistair is gone, and if he were
here this would not be necessary.
The transfiguration professor interrupts.
If I recall correctly, you weren't all that fond of
Alistair. Why the sudden change of heart,
Professor? Young Hermione says firmly,
looking at the injured man sitting up on the bed.
I can assure you I will not be a burden.
Please. Minerva steps towards the door
before turning to level another sharp look at him.
This is what has been decided. Get with the program quickly, my
boy. Hermione and Severus stare at
their memory counterparts who were silent in the room.
She can feel the waves of embarrassment mixed with relief
coming off her. It had been so close to her
birthday, the day they had all been informed they'd be moving
off to live in safe houses. Alastair Moody dying in an
ambush had shaken the order and changed the plan.
Professor Snape, The younger witch pipes up once more.
Don't call me that, he says sourly.
Snape, just Snape is fine. I'll pack my things so that we
can leave as soon as Madame Pomfrey has cleared you to use a
port key to travel to the safe house.
She tells him. Fine, he says gruffly, sounding
resigned. Now get out.
As the younger version of herself flees the room, Hermione
and Severus remove themselves to the hallway to talk.
She folds her arms over her chest and stares at the ugly
grey carpet that her mind has conjured.
I should apologize. He says quietly.
I was unkind to you in the early days of our association, myself
loathing at being exposed as a spy combined with my injured
state. Suffice it to say, my lashed out
at you because you were there and because Poppy and Minerva
were forcing you on to me, and if anything had happened to you
as a result of being paired off with me, I understand.
She tells him, looking up. To be honest, I was so used to
your surliness by then, it really didn't faze me.
In fact, I was relieved to be going away.
Ron and I had just split up you see, and not being around him
all the time and having you to tend to was the separation I
needed to put it out of my head. Several smirks at her.
I never thanked you for taking care of me, I wasn't waiting
around for it. He looks her right in the eyes
then, and without so much of A hint of sarcasm or irony, he
murmurs. Thank you Hermione, you're
welcome. She replies with a smile.
Shall we move on? He gestures towards the lifts on
the 4th floor. He leads them into a memory she
immediately panics upon seeing. It isn't a bad memory, but one
she knows we'll give her away entirely should he experience
the emotions with him. They're in the safe house
together, drinking tea and reading as they often did when
they were not brewing potions for the order to be distributed
by their secret keeper. How is your book?
The younger witch asks. He barely glances up, a smirk
curving the side of his mouth upwards.
Appalling. She responds with a grin and
lets the subject fall for a moment.
There is no sound in the room, save for the crackle of the fire
and the soft scratch of paper as they turn the pages of their
books. This isn't good.
He says, closing the book and placing it to the side.
What are you reading? She looks up sheepishly from her
text. I'm working my way through the
Newt level textbooks. She answers.
Astronomy at the moment. He looks at her, bemused.
Why? Let's face it, I'm never going
back to Hogwarts. I'm 19 now.
I'll be 20 in November. I'll be an adult living amongst
children. She answers with a dry laugh.
It wouldn't be fair for me or the other students.
He doesn't speak, but a moment later says.
I could tutor you. Her eyebrows raise in surprise.
You'd be willing to do that? Severus nods.
It's not as though there's much else to do here to pass the time
when we aren't brewing. She grins.
Well, with an offer like that, she begins teasingly.
I accept. Thank you, Severus.
The two of them stand and watch as their remembered counterparts
continue to discuss a study plan.
Hermione wrings her hands together in front of her,
unwilling to risk gazing up at the man beside her.
Throughout the memory, waves of confusion, affection, and
attraction had permeated the room, washing over them
relentlessly. She wants to hide her face
behind her hands. Her cheeks feel incredibly hot.
When it's over, she leaves the room without looking at him.
There is no doubt in her mind that even if anything were
possible between them, which she very much doubts, seeing those
memories and feeling her emotions would likely scare him
off. They ascend to the next level in
uncomfortable silence, a sick feeling of dread settling in her
stomach as her worst fears are realized.