The Dark Mark

Dislcamer: I take no credit for the characters or their circumstances. I make no money from the writing and sharing of this story. It all belongs to the amazing J. K. Rowling.

Kudos: As always, I would like to thank my wonderful betas, JENGEORGE and NervousAboutAngels, for such a fantastic job at keeping me on message, and Writer Merrin here at The Petulant Poetess for catching all of the grammar and spelling mistakes. You are all wonderful ladies. I couldn't have done it without you.

WARNING: Angst Alert!

The Dark Mark

On Sunday afternoon, promptly at 5:00 p.m., an invisible Professor Snape rapped on Hermione’s front door with a bottle of Ogden’s tucked under his arm and a bottle of Hugo’s potion in his hand. By now, she was used to opening the door to what appeared to be an empty front porch. As she stepped aside, her spine tingled when she felt him billow past her. With the door closed, he slowly came into view.

“Good afternoon, Professor. So good to see you again,” Hermione said as a slight blush rose in her cheeks.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he acknowledged with a proper nod.

As she removed his traveling cloak, her eyes widened in delight. She assumed that the summer heat had been the culprit, but she was indeed the benefactor. Instead of his usual frock coat with its high collar and endless buttons, the cloak had concealed only a heavily starched white linen shirt with the top two buttons left undone atop the usual black trousers. She had never seen him so casually dressed, at least not in real life. The sight took her breath away. She felt herself blush even deeper as he handed her the bottle of Ogden’s and Hugo’s potion. She attempted to focus on the two glass containers as she concentrated on regaining her wits and slowing her heart rate.

Snape watched her as she stared at the bottles in her hands and wondered if he had made a mistake in his choice of beverage. “If Ogden’s is not to your liking, perhaps I can Apparate quickly and acquire something else.”

Just then, Hugo came rushing to the door. “Professor Snape!” he yelled as he flung his arms around Snape’s waist.

After the initial shock that always followed when Hugo showed him such affection, Snape responded in kind by picking the boy up off the ground slightly. He felt such a connection with this boy, almost as if he was giving himself a second chance at a happy childhood. “My, my, how you have grown! I won’t be able to do this much longer.” He set the boy down gently. “You’ll be picking me up before we know it!”

Hugo laughed heartily as Snape smiled down at him. “Come, you must see our new computer!” He began to drag Snape by the hand towards the family room, but Snape resisted.

“You go on. I’ll be right there.” He turned to Miss Granger, who now met his gaze, but she somehow looked stressed. Her skin had begun to glow from perspiration, and her face looked several shades pinker than usual. And, of course, underneath it all wafted that delightful combination of her skin, salt, and Secret Recipe. He felt his pulse quicken. “Are you alright?” he inquired with genuine concern.

She swallowed hard and took a slow and deliberate breath to calm her nerves.

“Would you prefer mead? Elf-made wine, perhaps? It’s not too late. I can be back in a flash.”

“No!” Hermione finally came to her senses. Oh Merlin, why does he have to look so sexy? He must think I’ve gone mental. “Ogden’s is fine. I like it. Please, don’t go.” With those last words, she reached out and tenderly touched his arm, her eyes pleading. He had only just arrived. She couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving already, even for a few minutes.

Snape could see the look of longing in her eyes. Would he regret his decision to come here this afternoon? He had been strong enough to resist his basic instincts so far. He knew that if he could get through tonight, spending time together would eventually get easier for both of them. He returned her gaze with a look of reassurance and touched her hand. “Ogden’s it is, then.” He slid her hand farther up his arm to the crook of his elbow, and they walked together into the family room where Rose and Hugo were watching a funny video on YouTube. As the kids showed off their newest addition to the house, Snape couldn’t help but marvel at the computer’s speed and graphics capability. “Impressive. That thing makes me hungry for an upgrade.”

“Some of my friends at school get a new one every couple of years,” commented Hugo.

“I have found that sometimes you have no choice,” Snape added. “The technology advances so fast every year that the new software won’t work on the older machines.”

Snape looked on as the two kids laughed and made snide comments about the video that danced across the screen, an odd assortment of Lego toys in a clay-mation style animation that parodied the Star Wars movies. But since Snape had never seen the movies, the humor was lost on him. He glanced over his shoulder at Miss Granger. “Do you, by chance, require assistance in the kitchen?” This time Snape’s eyes held a pleading look, but not for the same reason.

Hermione smiled and cocked her head toward the doorway. “Come on.”

Snape silently mouthed the words, “My hero,” to her as she smirked and lead the way to the far end of her kitchen.

“I believe that my idea of internet entertainment differs a bit from that of your children.”

“Oh? Let me guess,” Hermione gave him a glare of mock incredulity. “Yours is more along the lines of whips, chains and a voluptuous blond scantily clad in a leather teddy?”

“I beg your pardon!?” Professor Snape scowled at her, but the deep crimson that colored his cheeks let Hermione know she wasn’t far off the mark.

Merlin! Now she thinks I’m a lecherous old pervert! “I would never contemplate such a thing,” he lied. “The horrid exploitation of beautiful young Muggle women… It’s despicable!” Although Snape didn’t make a habit of watching internet porn, he had, on occasion, viewed a random video or two, just out of curiosity.

“It’s alright, Professor,” she teased him. “After twenty years alone, you’re entitled to watch whatever or whomever you like. You’re an adult. It’s none of my business really.”

“How about a glass of that Ogden’s?” he asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

She turned away from him to retrieve a couple of glasses and conceal her amusement at his obvious discomfort.

“You mentioned something the other day in our correspondence, something important that you wanted to tell me about,” Snape continued to redirect the conversation.

“Oh, yes.” Hermione had almost forgotten the pretense behind her dinner invitation. “Harry and I are working on a case, and I was hoping that you could give me some insight, perhaps a more objective viewpoint. I think I know who the guilty party is, but I don’t want to waste a lot of time if I am mistaken. And I know that my dislike for this person might be coloring my judgment.”

This time it was Snape’s turn to tease. “Hermione Granger being judgmental? Jumping to the wrong conclusion?” He sneered at her. “What is the world coming to?”

“Oh, I think I’m a pretty fair-minded person,” she haughtily came to her own defense. “Harry and Ron were always ready to condemn you, but I continually tried to steer them in a more positive direction. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “after you made that rather cruel comment about my teeth, I stopped defending you for a time.”

Although he remembered the incident perfectly, Snape gave her a puzzled look. Over his many years as a spy, he had learned to lie his way out of just about anything. “What cruel comment about your teeth?”

Hermione scowled at him. “Don’t play dumb with me, Professor. You know full well what I’m referring to.”

“Honestly,” he shook his head in mock bewilderment, “I don’t recall ever making a disparaging remark about your teeth. First of all, with a nose like mine, I would have no room to tease anyone about facial anatomy. And second, your teeth look perfect to me, so I can’t imagine what there would have been to insult.”

Hermione wondered for just a moment if she should drop it, but never one to shrink from confrontation, she forged ahead, determined to remind him of the unforgivable incident during her forth year.

“Harry and Draco had been going on about the usual crap one day while standing in line for your class, and they both hexed each other at the same time. Well, the hexes met in mid air, then ricocheted off each other. One hit Goyle, the other hit me. My two front teeth had, up until then, always been a bit large. The Densaugeo hex that hit my face made them grow even larger. When you assessed the damage, your comment was – and I quote,” she lowered her tone in an attempt to imitate Professor Snape’s silky deep voice, “‘I see no difference.’”

Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor as those raw, painful memories came flooding back to her. She could feel the tension in the room growing. She knew then that dredging up this particular piece of their shared past had been a mistake. She paused for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, at a loss as to how to proceed.

“And then you ran up the stairs in tears.” Snape broke the silence with a voice that was barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath as he stared into his glass of Ogden’s. He had had his speech all planned out, but he couldn’t bring himself to go through with it. She deserved the truth, and so much more. “I could claim that I meant no harm, that I made the comment as a comparison of what Goyle had suffered at the hand of Potter to what you had suffered at the hand of Draco… But that would be a lie.”

He knitted his brow as their eyes met. Even after all of these years, they both remembered that incident with crystal clarity. But until now, he had never truly realized the impact it had had on her. “Those words were said with malice, as were so many other words I spat at you during your time at Hogwarts.” He noticed tears begin to stream down her cheek. “Back then, as well as now, it seems that all I’m good for is causing you pain.”

Hermione could see where this was leading. Her stubbornness had backfired in her face yet again. She could feel his defensive walls going up. “No!” she shook her head adamantly. “No, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It was over twenty years ago. I would never hold it against you now.”

Snape began to shake his head. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. And I certainly don’t deserve your friendship, Miss Granger. Perhaps I should go.” He set his glass down on the kitchen table and then turned on his heel and began to exit the kitchen, but she lunged forward and grabbed his left arm right where the Dark Mark lay hidden under his shirt sleeve. His skin was still sensitive there, and he stopped in his tracks.

“If you’re truly sorry and you really want to make up for the pain you’ve caused me… ” She swallowed hard before continuing. “… then you’ll stay.” Their eyes met again, and hers drilled deeply into his. She wanted him to use Legilimency on her so he could know without a doubt that she meant what she said.

But he didn’t require the spell to see the sincerity in her eyes, so he relaxed a bit and turned back toward her. “You are truly a glutton for punishment.”

With those words, Hermione threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She buried her face in his chest and breathed deeply of his skin mixed with the smell of fresh linen, starch, and some heavenly cologne that she had never encountered before.

Resistance is futile, he thought as his heart melted, and his arms engulfed her as well. But his restraint held when she gazed up at him with parted lips and lust-laced eyes. It took all of his will power to calm his heart and his manhood as he felt her hand drift down to grab his bum. He took her arms gently but firmly and held her several inches away. Then he said in his sternest Head of House voice, “Miss Granger, if we are to be friends, I think there are a few rules we should discuss, a few lines we cannot allow ourselves to cross.”

Hermione glanced down in embarrassment. “And I just crossed one, didn’t I?”

“Don’t you think it best that grabbing, groping, and copping a feel, as it were, should all be off limits?”

“You’re no fun at all,” she announced with great disappointment.

“We’re supposed to be just friends, remember?”

Hermione glared at him in stone cold silence.

“Do you grab Potter’s bum?”

“No.”

“Does he fondle your breasts?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed indignantly. “But we do hug…” She glanced up at Professor Snape through fluttering lashes, “…and kiss.”

Snape sneered at her. “On the cheek, no doubt.”

“Oh, alright,” she conceded with a huff. “Hard arse!”

“Perhaps name calling should be off limits as well,” he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry,” she muttered. He finally let go of her arms, and she wrapped them around him again, but this time they stayed in an honorable place around his waist.

After kissing her on top of the head, he redirected the conversation back to the case that she and Harry were working on, and she started to explain in detail. Without mentioning any names, she told him what she and Harry had discovered, how many blackmail victims they had located, how many they had interviewed, and the emerging modus operandi of the perpetrator. She told him of her research in the Records Office at the Ministry and offered to let him review her notes. He vowed to take them home and get them back to her as soon as possible.

Then their conversation turned to her upcoming teaching position at Hogwarts and the new adventures it was bound to afford her. As they put the finishing touches on dinner and began to transport everything to the dining room, he gave her some insight on the fun side of being on the staff.

“I always enjoyed roaming the halls at night in search of miscreants. Nothing brought me more pleasure than breaking up a couple snogging each other senseless in a dark alcove. It seemed all the more mortifying when they realized that I was the one who had caught them.” Professor Snape began to chuckle. “I can remember once, catching one of the Weasley brothers with a girl in an empty classroom near Gryffindor tower.” His eyes began to sparkle as he recalled the incident. “His pants were around his knees, and he was trying to slip a Muggle birth-control device on his willy, I think it’s called a condom. She was sprawled across the teacher’s desk, legs dangling, knickers hanging by a toenail…” He had to stop to catch his breath in between his giggles. “I could have just interrupted them, given them both detention and subtracted house points and the like, but I had never caught anyone that far along before. I had to teach them a real lesson. So I Disillusioned myself, then I went back out into the hall and Enervated a suite of armor to march in there, proclaim his ownership of the girl, and threaten to cut off Weasley’s willy with the sword he was wielding.” Professor Snape then began to laugh outright. “You should have seen the looks on their faces as they scrambled to get out of their predicament – priceless!”

Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Professor Snape had actually enjoyed hall monitor duty? He had always given her the impression that he had hated it. She found herself joining in his mirth as his words conjured the picture in her mind. “Which Weasley brother?” she asked when she regained her composure. “It wasn’t Percy, was it?”

“Oh, Merlin, no! Head Boy Percy was so uptight I don’t think he even kissed a girl until the end of his seventh year. No, it was either Fred or George. I could never tell them apart.”

At this point, the table was set and dinner was ready, so Hermione called the children in. Professor Snape delighted Hermione by pushing her chair in for her. He then instructed Hugo to do the same for his sister.

“Why would I want to do that?” asked the boy innocently.

“Because that’s what a gentleman does for a lady,” Professor Snape stated flatly. “Just as he opens the door for her and removes his cloak hood or hat when he comes inside.” Hugo gaped at him as if he were from another planet. “Didn’t your father ever teach you how to act like a gentleman?”

Hermione bit back the snide remark against Ron that she had on the tip of her tongue. She decided months ago that she wouldn’t disrespect Ron in front of their children. But Professor Snape took care of that for her.

“I suppose it would be difficult to teach something that one has never properly learned to begin with.”

His comment was cryptic enough that it sailed over Hugo’s head. Hermione tried to stifle a smirk by pretending to wipe her mouth with her hand, but Rose saw right through both of them. She knew that her father wasn’t the most refined wizard in Britain, but she was still proud of his life and his achievements. She didn’t like this tall, dark, long-nosed git showing him disrespect. “My father is a great man,” she stated quietly, “and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making any more insulting remarks about him in the future.”

“Rose!” Hermione admonished, mortified by her daughter’s rude comment.

“It’s alright, Miss Granger. Rose is correct, of course. My comment was out of line. I apologize. It won’t happen again.” Snape nodded at Rose in acknowledgment of the girl’s strength of will and family pride. He pondered inwardly at the fact that he had felt only disdain for his own father and had been rather ashamed of his mother for not standing up to his abusive Muggle father when he was Rose’s age. For a fleeting moment, his heart knew just a touch of envy for Ron Weasley. A very fleeting moment.

In an attempt to smooth things over, Snape groped to change the subject. “Your mother tells me that you were in the top of all of your classes this past year. Tell me, do you have a favorite subject yet?”

“Arithmancy, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Rose announced proudly.

Snape smiled at her. “Following in your mother and father’s footsteps, I see.” He paused for a moment as he helped himself to the mashed potatoes. “My expertise is Potions and, of course, Defense Against the Dark Arts. So if you ever need help in either one—”

“I can ask my father for Defense Against the Dark Arts advice,” she retorted. “He’s an Auror, or didn’t you know that?”

“Rose!” This time Hermione would not be placated by Professor Snape. “You apologize for your rude behavior this instant!”

“Miss Granger, please. It’s alright. She doesn’t know my life’s story. I wouldn’t expect her to trust me in such matters without knowing me first.” He then turned to Rose and, with a look that would make any student shrivel, he added, “You are just… like… your… mother.”

Rose’s eyes became wider, and she sank deeper into her chair with each word. But she recovered quickly, having never been exposed to Professor Snape’s wrath. “Mum and Grandma told us that you were in the war. They told us you were powerful. That doesn’t make you any better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than my dad,” she stated defiantly.

Before Hermione could admonish the headstrong girl or apologize to Professor Snape, he had stood up, leaned across the table and began to unbutton his left shirt cuff.

“Professor, this is neither the time nor the place—”

But Snape had reached the limits of his good graces. It may have been over twenty years since he had last faced a classroom full of students, but he knew an insolent child when he saw one, and he was determined to put her in her place once and for all. “If I am to be a part of your life, Miss Granger, she must learn the truth sooner or later. Now is as good a time as any. I will not be insulted by a red-headed, twelve-year-old know-it-all, not after all that I have seen and done in my miserable life.” With that, he pulled his sleeve up and thrust his left forearm in Rose’s face. “I assume that you know what this is?” he asked curtly.

She gasped and recoiled as did Hugo. Although it no longer moved and the stark black lines had faded to a pale gray, the formidable Dark Mark still stood out plainly against his lily-white skin. When they both looked up into his fierce face, Hugo’s eyes reflected awe and respect, but Rose felt only fear. She hadn’t learned about his part in the war in class yet, but she did know what the Dark Mark meant. He had been a Death Eater. He had known and done horrible things. Her friend Scorpius had confided in her that his father and grandfather had been Death Eaters. He had told her that, although his father had never done anything too horrible, his grandfather had spent time in Azkaban for his associations and actions on behalf of Lord Voldemort. The stories Scorpius had relayed had given her nightmares on more than one occasion. The man that stood before her was very dangerous indeed, and that knowledge drained the blood from her face.

“Professor,” Hermione implored him through gritted teeth, “she’s only a child.”

Snape didn’t take his eyes off Rose’s face as he growled, “And did you get the sugar-coated version of life in the magical world during your childhood years at Hogwarts, Miss Granger?”

“You, of all people, know the answer to that question.”

“I wonder... Have your children heard the stories?”

“No,” she replied with quiet indignation.

“Then perhaps it is time you enlighten them,” he suggested, still sneering at Rose as he watched her wilt into her chair. Snape’s eyes drilled into hers, and when he spoke, his voice was hushed, his tone caressing each word. “I know more about the Dark Arts and how to defend against them than your father ever will.”

“Yes, sir,” Rose responded meekly. Then she stole a glance at her mother, who had been holding her breath. Snape sat back down and restored his shirtsleeve to its former condition but continued to glare at her, which made her very nervous. “Sorry,” she offered.

Her apology seemed to placate Professor Snape, and Hermione let out a huge sigh. But the entire scene had cast a blanket of tension over the room. With the exception of Professor Snape, who seemed to be gorging himself, everyone picked at their food, and everyone including the Professor ate in silence. Finally, Rose could endure the charade no longer and asked to be excused.

“Don’t you want dessert?” her mother asked. But she had already left the room.

Snape snorted. “It’s my fault. You see, I told you that you should have let me leave. You’re better off without me.”

“No we’re not!” exclaimed Hugo. “Please don’t leave us just because of Rose. She was rude and out of line.”

Snape’s lip curled at the boy coming to his defense. At least he had one of Miss Granger’s children in his corner. “She was only defending your father’s honor, a very brave and noble thing to do. Gryffindor to the core, just like her mother.” He glanced apologetically at Miss Granger who had stood to begin the process of clearing the table. Her son and guest joined her in that activity as Hugo continued the conversation.

“My Grandma has been telling me stories about you and everything you did for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. Rose didn’t hear those stories yet. Don’t worry. She’ll come around.” Hugo’s statement helped begin to dissolve Snape’s mental anguish over the incident, and he noticeably relaxed, which encouraged Hugo to continue as he transported an armload of dishes into the kitchen. “Maybe, if you spend more time with us and she gets to know you better, she’ll even begin to like you. You should come round more often. Grandma likes you. Maybe you could come visit us there at lunch time on weekdays.”

“I’m afraid that I keep pretty busy during the week,” he replied in an attempt to get Molly off the hook. Snape’s heart began to melt as the boy showed an obvious desire for his companionship. No other child, not even Draco in his youth, had ever shown such an interest in spending time with “the Bat of the Dungeons.”

“I’ll ask Molly to tell the same stories to Rose as she has to Hugo,” Hermione said. “Then perhaps by next weekend she will be more relaxed around you. I was hoping that Sunday afternoons with you and the children here could become a tradition. If we can smooth out things with you and Rose, it could be fun for all of us.”

“Professor Snape here every Sunday afternoon? That would be wonderful,” admitted Hugo, and he rushed over to give the Professor another big hug. “Please say yes, please, please, please!”

Snape couldn’t help but laugh lightly as he returned Hugo’s hug. Then an idea struck him. “Hugo, I know that you don’t start your formal magical education until next year, but I see no reason why you can’t learn a few basics about brewing potions, that is, if you are interested and you mother approves.”

“May I, Mum?” Hugo asked anxiously as he followed his mother back out to the dining room with the dessert plates.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Perhaps I can teach you how to brew the potion that I supply you with. If you find that interesting, we can continue your training.”

“WOW! That would be GREAT!”

They worked out the logistics of setting up a place in her kitchen to brew, acquiring some of the more unusual ingredients, and Hermione vowed to dig out her old cauldron and scales for Hugo to practice with. She seemed to recall that they were up in her parents’ attic somewhere, but if she couldn’t locate them, the cost of a basic potions starter kit was marginal, and Hugo would need one for school eventually anyway.

Dessert had been ingested, and Snape finally stood by the door with Miss Granger’s blackmail case file in one hand and his wand in the other. He gave Hugo a sincere hug and kissed the top of his head, then he turned to Miss Granger.

“Go on up and get ready for bed, now,” she told her son warmly. “I’ll be up in a minute to kiss you goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Professor Snape,” Hugo said as he smiled and waved and started up the staircase.

“Goodnight, Hugo. Pleasant dreams,” Snape replied.

Then he turned his eyes to Miss Granger. She was giving him one of her smoldering looks and closed the gap between them in an instant. He transferred her case file to his wand hand and then reached up to caress her face. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.” He swallowed back the emotions that were about to bubble to the surface as he felt his pulse quicken.

“Sorry,” she whispered. Then she stood on her tiptoes and put her hand around his neck, pulling his face down to meet her lips, but he turned at the last moment and presented his cheek for her to kiss. “No fun at all,” she muttered.

“Prudence and caution, Miss Granger,” he gently reminded her. “Believe me; it’s not that I don’t want what you are offering.”

“Then why—?”

“Because holding the moral high-ground is infinitely more important for your future than the satiation of my physical desires.”

“I have desires, too.”

“And why you wish to waste them on me is something I will never fathom.”

Hermione’s look grew dire. “I have always wanted you, and I always will.” Her eyes penetrated deeply into his, and she gathered the courage to reveal what her heart was now screaming. “I have always lo—”

Snape quickly covered her mouth with his index finger. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve just suffered a messy divorce. I’m here, I’m convenient. But later, you’ll want more… more than I can ever offer. I’m damaged goods, Miss Granger. You saw how I was with Rose tonight. The next time it could be you that I lash out at or…” He shuddered at the thought. “… Hugo.”

Hermione felt deep frustration at once again being thwarted in her attempt at professing her love for him. “You had a right to be angry with Rose tonight. I’ll admit that you may have overreacted a bit, but you were also correct when you said that she would need to know about your past sooner or later.” She searched his face for any sign that she might be getting through to him but was met with only skepticism. “Will I ever be able to convince you that you are worth loving?”

The words caused Snape’s face to distort in physical pain. He swallowed hard again and pursed his lips. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away. As he tapped the top of his head with his wand and began to vanish before her eyes, she heard him say, “You’re wrong. I’m not worth it, and I never will be.”