After You

A/N: It is too bloody hot to write anything but dark!dangerous!Snape. My thanks to Anastasia, Annie Talbot, Machshefa, and Melenka, who were extremely patient and exacting with this chapter.

Summary: Conversations in the Entranc Hall.

32: After You

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

Her voice skirled away over the snow, and the castle grounds were absolutely silent.

In the shadowed Entrance Hall, Severus' hand closed around his wand. His eyes automatically measured the distance the Unspeakables were keeping from her.

Dueling distance.

There were four of them.

His face a mask of utter stillness in the darkness behind her, but behind his silence, his mind was calculating. Four? – Impossible that as many as four should know about Godric's Hollow.

One of them spoke. "Hermione Granger?"

"As you very well know, Billings. Or have you forgotten my face as quickly as you did your lessons?"

She regarded him coolly for a moment, then another, older voice broke in. "I'll handle this, Billings."

"Yes, Sir."

Before the older man could speak, Hermione's tones spilled acidly over the threshold. "Shriver. I've not seen you in twenty-two years."

Severus cursed silently as he understood her meaning. They'd sent the one who'd handled her interrogation after the battle.

"You have a good memory, Granger," Shriver replied smoothly, "considering how distressing the circumstances under which we last spoke."

"My memory is excellent," Hermione said flatly.

Shriver's eyes narrowed. "Of course."

A creak of snow as someone shifted their stance on the frozen ground. Severus' hand tightened once more on his wand.

Hermione met Shriver's gaze evenly. "And you are here regarding... what, exactly?"

"We are here at the behest of the school administration." Shriver's eyes flicked meaningfully to his subordinates and back to Hermione.

Hermione snorted. "I believe you mean the librarian."

"Any witch or wizard has the right to request our assistance."

"So they're led to believe." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable.

Not here, Hermione, Snape thought, gathering himself to intervene. Not here.

"If you would inform Madam Abbott of our arrival, and let us wait inside?"

"I'm here," Hannah's voice echoed from the top of the stairs.

As Snape stepped back into the shadow of the great doors, Hermione turned and swept inside. The Unspeakables entered, and the door swung shut, its echo booming throughout the castle.

---

At the sound of the door, Neville and the tiny ghost paused in mid-flight to exchange a worried look.

"The Unspeakables must be here," Neville said. He couldn't explain how he knew.

The wee ghost nodded, and the two floated more cautiously toward the Entrance Hall.

---

The only light in the Entrance Hall was the lantern in Hannah's hand.

Neither Severus nor Hermione made any move to light the torches.

"Madam Abbott? Augustus Shriver, Head of the Unspeakables, Department of Mysteries. My junior colleagues, Messrs Billings, Smythe, and Baysgate."

The younger men nodded formally in turn.

Shiver continued, "You had some concerns, I believe, regarding the recent demise of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall?"

Hannah, her pale face illuminated by the lantern, seemed stuck on the topmost stair. She had spotted Severus and Hermione, dark against the door, and would not – could not descend closer to them. She nodded mutely.

Shriver looked at her for a moment, expecting her to come down, then shook his head. He gestured for two of his men to go to her. "We understand your fears, Madam, but please, do come down so that we can talk?"

Hannah shook her head. "I don't want to come any closer to... them."

"Really, Miss Abbott," Severus said, "you and your lantern make a far better target up there than you would lower down."

"Snape." The ice in Shriver's tone was palpable as he turned toward the former Death Eater, reflexively protecting his back against a tall column of stone. "What an unexpected pleasure."

"Neither, really," Snape said mildly.

Billings edged into the space between them, trying but failing to make his movements seem casual.

"Oh, do come down, Hannah," Hermione snapped, breaking the moment. "You look like Filch up there with your lantern."

Hannah was halfway down the stairs before she realised it. "Mr Shriver, they had something to do with the headmistress' death. I just know they did."

Glancing briefly at Billings to make sure the junior man was, in fact, between him and Severus, Shriver turned to the librarian. "'They' being Hermione Granger and Severus Snape?"

"Yes," Hannah confirmed.

"And why do you believe they are culpable?"

Hannah just stared at him. "Because... because they're Dark. Both of them."

"I see," Shriver said noncommittally. "If you could just tell me what happened..."

"Well..." Hannah drew a deep breath. "We were at the high table, eating lunch, and they came in, and... and he..." She paused, looking down.

"He..." Shriver prompted her.

"They kissed," Hannah spat, "and a moment later, Minerva was dead."

Her statement hung stupidly in the air.

"Some kiss," one of the younger Unspeakables muttered, and Billings shifted uncomfortably. A sharp glance from Shriver stilled them both.

An involuntary laugh from Hermione – a short, sharp sound – startled them all. "Really, Hannah – kissing as a Dark Art is a metaphor."

"Rather a tired one," Snape murmured.

A very dark, very private awareness passed between them, unseen in the shadowy hall, and Severus' eyes glinted with a promise.

"Let me be sure I understand," Hermione stated. "You called the Ministry out in this cold because Severus kissed me." Some edge belied the amusement in her tone.

"He was a Death Eater – and our Professor. That's just sick."

"Sick," Hermione echoed.

The edge of whatever had lurked beneath her tone bled fully into her eyes, and Severus saw it blossom into something strangely sad. His throat closed in acknowledgment of the truth in Hannah's words. There was a time when Hermione would have shared her revulsion...

"Perhaps," Hermione said, very softly, as if to herself.

Hannah's eyes hardened in triumph.

But no one moved.

All of the recent images Severus had had of her as his student flashed through his mind, all the images he'd dismissed in the moment... no, he couldn't deny what those moments had been, nor that they brought a certain edge to the pleasure he had taken from her. With her.

His eyes flickered towards her, but her face was unreadable as her eyes locked with Hannah's.

"Perhaps you might call us 'sick,' Hannah, and there are those who would agree with you. But things change, and sometimes... sometimes you realise that there are some truths – strange, complex, even wondrous truths – that can only be understood by moonlight." Some pity flickered in her eyes before her face became, once again, a mask of detached disdain. "No, Hannah. Some truths are far too subtle to see during the day, but just because you prefer not to see them doesn't mean they're not real. Viable. Necessary."

Slow, aching warmth suffused his chest, and it was with difficulty that he restrained himself from sweeping his cloak around both of them and heading into the night. He satisfied himself with a slight touch to her elbow. Just enough to tell her that he had heard, and understood, and was there.

He turned his attention back to Shriver.

The Unspeakable was eyeing Hermione speculatively, no doubt measuring her words against the one particular truth it was his duty to contain.

Hannah's voice pierced the shadows. "See? See? She's Dark. She just said so."

Hermione's voice cracked across the space between them. "It was a metaphor, Hannah, about perspective and the passage of time." She drew herself taller, and a thread of steel slipped into her voice. "Yes, Severus Snape was a Death Eater and our professor."

She did not need to add, "Twenty-two years ago."

They all heard it anyway.

Minerva had had a similar talent.

Hermione's gaze rested calmly on Hannah's pale face, and the librarian looked away.

From the flush spreading on Hannah's cheeks, Severus knew she was far from silenced.

But then Severus heard a sharp intake of breath from Hermione. Her brow furrowed slightly, and he followed her glance.

In the heartbeat that followed, he saw a soft glow in the upper arcade.

---

As they caught sight of the scene below, Neville put a warning hand on the smaller ghost's arm.

She didn't need to be told. She didn't like the librarian.

---

Shriver, too, had followed Hermione's glance, but saw nothing unusual. After a moment, he continued as though her exchange with Hannah had never happened. "Madam Abbott, if we can continue?"

She nodded nervously, fixing her eyes on his face as a lifeline.

"So, they kissed," he prompted her. "After that... ?"

Hannah took a shallow, hitching breath. "There was a crash – something happened to the doors – and the headmistress collapsed. Something happened – I don't know what, but something... something big –the doors to the Great Hall haven't closed properly since!"

"Madam Abbott," Snape said, his voice as smooth as were he calming a nervous Thestral, "Minerva had a weak heart. Madam Pomfrey would have filed the paperwork with the Ministry straightaway. There was no irregularity, or the Ministry would have sent Aurors –"

Something flickered in Shriver's eyes. "Familiar with procedure in these matters, eh, Mr Snape?"

Severus did not deign to acknowledge that, continuing, "So the fact they did not send anyone, that you had to call them – "

Hannah shook her head, closing her eyes as if she could block Severus' voice. "Stop it, both of you, with your twisty words – you could have Imperio'd Poppy! You killed the headmistress – you both did – just like you killed Dumbledore!"

"Please, calm yourself," Shriver began. "We understand your concerns, and will do everything in our –"

"Just ask her portrait! Ask her portrait if you don't believe me!" Hannah's voice was thick with tears, and her eyes were wide, too wide.

Shriver saw the opportunity and took it smoothly. "An excellent suggestion. Smythe, Baysgate, if you would accompany Madam Abbott to the head's office and take her statement, and the portrait's?"

"And... and what about Madam Pomfrey?"

"I shall examine her myself, Madam Abbott," he said reassuringly. He tilted his head sharply toward the upstairs corridor, and Smythe and Baysgate easily maneuvered the crying Hannah up the stairs and out of the hall.

---

Neville and the smaller ghost drew themselves into the column until the Unspeakables and Hannah were past them.

---

Severus' attention was back on Shriver. The man had taken maximum advantage of the librarian's hysteria, removing his subordinates from Hermione's vicinity, ensuring as few witnesses as possible. So. Shriver's – and the Ministry's – real fear was as Severus had suspected: that Hermione had, in fact, remembered what she had done in Godric's Hollow.

The man was good. How good, Severus didn't know – on the surface, a dribbling Hufflepuff was no real test, but she had been unpredictable, and he had used it well.

He bore watching.

---

What was that? Hermione could not decide what, if anything, she had really seen behind Hannah. The moon, perhaps, through one of the many-faceted windows.

Shriver's voice intruded into her thoughts, and they fled. "However good your memory of events, Miss Granger..." A slight pause emphasized that his omission of her title was deliberate. "I will need to speak with the Healer."

"For the official version of your report, I presume?" she asked.

The air crackled with her veiled accusation.

"Whatever do you mean?" Shriver said, but he automatically adjusted the distance between them.

Hermione's only response was to flick the sleeve of her robe away from her wand hand.

Billings coughed quietly.

They ignored him.

Shriver looked amused. "Now, really." His tone was dismissive, but Severus saw his weight shift slightly forward, felt the air go taut around them...

No. "The Healer is generally in Professor Slughorn's chambers at this hour," he interjected.

Hermione stepped back; only then did Shriver step aside.

The air seemed to breathe back into the hall.

"If you'd lead the way?" The Unspeakable gestured for Hermione to precede him.

Severus' hand on her elbow stayed her impulse to step forward. He shook his head slightly.

Shriver's eyes narrowed. "So. It's like that, is it?"

"Just so we fully understand each other," Severus confirmed.

The Unspeakable's eyes swept the pair standing before him, dissecting them, cataloging them, and, as finally the man nodded, Severus caught a flicker of something on his face.

Ambition.

Condescension.

And hunger.

Bloody Hell. The man was aroused.

Severus' words fell like knives of sleet. "The entrance to the dungeons is through that door. After you." Severus did not release Hermione's elbow until the Unspeakable was on his way down, with Billings following a careful distance behind him.

---

The wee ghost shot a confused look at Neville.

"Professor Snape doesn't trust him. He didn't want him to have a shot at Hermione's back."

Her eyes widened with distress.

"He taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, you know. He was really good at it. She'll be okay."

A small, hesitant smile.

"I wonder if Professor Snape knows Hermione's secret," Neville mused.

The little ghost nodded.

"Do you know what it is?"

She shrugged, looking worried. She tugged his sleeve, and they disappeared through the floor.

---

The bleeding ghost bobbed outside until he was sure the Entrance Hall was empty. Then he angled through the wall.

As he drifted downward through the castle, he nodded to himself at the wisdom of his decision to remain outside whilst the living had their conversations.

It had been quite unpleasant enough without his bleeding through it.