Six

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I intend no infringement and am making no profit.

***

Professor McGonagall and I spent the first day of the trial harried and half ill with worry, pacing around the antechamber of the Ministry's main courtroom because we were not allowed to be present during the proceedings. Naturally, there was nothing we could do...no charm, no trick, no fabulous invention of the Weasleys...that would allow us to eavesdrop on what was being said within. Even Professor McGonagall, as brilliant and resourceful as she was, confessed that despite putting herself in her best Slytherin mindset, she couldn't conceive of a way to listen in.

Finally she sank into her chair and simply sat there, lips pursed, looking furious. I knew that she was indignant the process had even taken seven hours; as far as we and the majority of his colleagues were concerned, there was simply nothing to debate. My notes were self-evident: he had made a Vow to Albus Dumbledore that required him to go through with the murder if it became necessary. In light of the circumstances, it really could not be considered murder. It was, if anything, assisted suicide. Dumbledore had undoubtedly been perfectly aware of Draco Malfoy's duplicity or he wouldn't have approached Severus about taking the Vow in the first place.

Professor McGonagall, who was marginally more composed than I was during this time, was growing visibly irritated with my incessant pacing. Nothing she could say managed to calm me. When the door opened, and she was beckoned to enter the chamber, I released a squawk of frustration.

"I will be back momentarily," she promised. Her tone was entirely businesslike, but she sought my hand with hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. I nodded and managed to sit down for the first time in hours, sipping absently at a cup of tea that had long since reached arctic temperatures. I could taste nothing.

A few minutes passed before she emerged again and motioned for me to follow her. I did so, my stomach in such a state of upheaval that I could barely walk straight. Blood began pounding in my ears as I anticipated what she would say. It was, in all seriousness, either his second chance at life or the end of it. Execution would have been preferable to a lifelong sentence in Azkaban.

When we reached a more private segment of hallway, she paused and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "They have reached a standstill, it seems," she explained in an undertone. "I'm afraid there is nothing more that you or I can do. They are going to debate throughout the night, most likely." She sighed and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping at her exhausted eyes, which had long since begun to water with anxiety and fatigue. "They will most likely deliver the verdict in the morning. I think it would be best if you were to go home, Miss Granger."

I opened my mouth to protest but let it slowly drift shut. Her expression was one of the utmost sympathy...she knew how I felt, but nothing I did could possibly change the course at this point. I nodded, defeated, and turned to leave. She murmured good day to me and promised that if she heard anything before I arrived the next morning, she would owl me regardless of the time.

***

My parents' house was chilly and dark when I returned. The trial had been delayed in favor of more pressing matters and thus had not begun until nearly four; it was now past eleven. Until that moment, I hadn't noticed the pervasive hunger in my gut, but now, far from the Ministry of Magic and incrementally less upset, my stomach rumbled loudly. I grabbed the nearest food I could find as I stalked through the kitchen, which happened to be an apple and several biscuits my mother had made a few days earlier. I downed two glasses of milk and then wandered out into the backyard. I knew it would be impossible for me to find sleep anytime soon, and I didn't want to chance waking my parents. They remained as blissfully ignorant of my involvement in Severus' trial as the Wizengamot had demanded they be kept, and my mother was far too perceptive for me to fool if she were to find me moping around the living room.

I stood for a few moments in the cold, dewy grass, simply staring at the faint outlines of distant stars in the night sky. I wondered if they would take him back to Azkaban to spend the night or allow him to stay at the Ministry under heavy guard. A brief, frantic thought of breaking him out flitted through my brain, and I dismissed myself as an idiot and flopped down beneath my mother's favorite rose bush.

As a child, I would often lie there when confused or frustrated. The fresh air, the sounds of the outdoors, and the calming presence of the beautiful blooms just overhead were somehow amazingly conducive to deep contemplation. I had never wished more desperately that I could once again be that lonely seven-year-old who lay on the grass for hours, reading or thinking about my future. Though I knew that what lay before me was bright and promising, I couldn't shake the irrational feeling that with Severus irrevocably sentenced to Azkaban, I would never manage to reach some distant potential which somehow, in my addled brain, involved him.

It never ceased to amaze me how completely my heart was able to rebel even when my brain assured it that its desires were nothing short of absolute stupidity. Was I so incredibly stupid, my brain wondered in awe, as to think that something would develop between us if my evidence exonerated him? He was my instructor and easily twenty years my senior. I'd never even given a thought to the age difference before, in all honesty...even while viewing him as a younger man, I was always painfully aware that the peak of my attraction had developed from seeing him as an adult, tall, intimidating, and completely prepossessing. Still, I couldn't be so naïve as to think that it would not be of significance to him and anyone else. A twenty-year gap between partners was not unheard of in the Wizarding world, but it was hardly commonplace.

I was forced to admit that on some level, as much as it made my cheeks burn, I had honestly thought that we might stand a chance...once I had graduated, of course. I didn't know how my delusional heart imagined I could possibly pursue him, but it was slowly shattering as I envisioned what it would be like to have him as a lover and considered the possibility that I might never have the chance.

He would be a fool not to notice the resemblance between myself and that witch with whom he'd become so enamored all those years ago; and if the similarities had been subtle before, my glasses had certainly changed that. In point of fact, I probably couldn't have made it more obvious why I'd bought them if he'd put me under Veritaserum and interrogated me himself.

Even the rational part of me continued to insist that our personalities were suited to one another, and that if he were open to the possibility, I could make him happy. Whereas other women would have shunned outright the idea of spending their lives cloistered away in his dungeon quarters with nothing for entertainment but books and one another's company, I was positively turned on by the notion. But even before that...even if we never managed to reach that level of intimacy which would induce him to ask me to live with him...we would undoubtedly get along fine as close friends and as new lovers.

Tears slowly began to fall as I realized that in all likelihood my contemplation was moot: we would never even have the chance to pursue such a relationship. My own cowardice at the thought of openly declaring to him how I felt would never have to be surmounted; any plans I might develop in order to meaningfully admit my feelings would never have to come to fruition because of the immense probability that he would spend the remainder of his life wasting away in Azkaban, his mind bereft of even the scant few memories he had of times he'd been content. They said that Azkaban, like the Dementors, fed off one's good temper, slowly leeching all comprehension of love and recollection of joy. For normal men, it was a long, torturous, horrifying process as they unwillingly relinquished each and every remaining facet of happiness in their minds. But Severus? He wouldn't even stand a chance. He had virtually no happiness to recollect and nothing left to give.

My vision was just beginning to blur with salty tears when I heard the familiar beating of wings and looked up to find a large gray owl hovering above me. It performed a graceful circle, swooped down, and landed beside me with a soft hoot. I sat up and squinted at it, but I didn't recognize it as belonging to any of my friends or acquaintances.

"Where did you come from?" I murmured sotto voce, conscious that my parents' bedroom window was generally left open during warm summer evenings. I accepted the message, and with a hastily whispered, "Lumos," I read through it, my excitement mounting with each word.

Miss Granger,

Therefore, as you are the only person who was capable of viewing Mr. Snape's memories firsthand, I regret to inform you that we must subpoena your testimony for tomorrow at 10 AM sharp. Mr. Snape has not been informed of this involvement and does not have to be present to witness your examination if you do not wish it.

The remainder was the general blabber in legalese about the need to maintain discretion and the consequences if I did not. I ignored it and offered the owl the remaining half of my last biscuit, which he accepted gratefully before taking flight again. I waved him goodbye, struck with a sudden, inexplicable cheeriness, and then I resumed staring, though this time in astonishment, at the rose bush.

They needed me. They could not reach a decision themselves, and now...finally...I would have the opportunity to sway their opinions directly. Though I was terrified to the very marrow of my bones at the thought of being insufficiently persuasive, I was at least being granted a shot. I could, if I played my cards right, presented myself in a professional and credible fashion, and delivered an appropriately sympathetic but not overtly biased testimony, possibly sway their vote.

I jumped up and made a break for the back door, desperate to begin planning. I might not be able to work miracles...least of all in this instance...but I would never let it be said that I hadn't given my all in trying.

***

The following morning dawned hot and oppressive, the air streaked with dust and humidity. Locked in my bathroom for nearly an hour, I fussed with my hair and makeup. I wanted to look like an adult, not a young woman who had tried too hard to impress her elders. I didn't habitually wear much makeup anyhow...a bit of foundation to even out my skin tone and the occasional swipe of mascara...but that day I wanted to use what little cosmetics skills I possessed to the ultimate advantage. After finishing with my foundation and applying a light, matte gloss to my lips, which had been ravaged by constant biting during my anxiety the day before, I made a covert trip to my parents' bathroom.

My mother was always accepting of a young girl's desire to look older. Though she never would have allowed me to leave the house at fifteen while fully made up, she taught me everything she knew about applying cosmetics in a classy, understated way, and she would have granted me far more freedom than my passing interest in my appearance had ever demanded.

I owed her an immense debt of gratitude, for now it was all going to pay off. I rummaged through her bag, pulled out her contouring rouge, and set about creating the illusion of much more prominent, adult cheekbones than I actually possessed. I was conservative about it, of course, and it wasn't as though I had none to begin with; but by the time I'd finished blending properly and had pulled my hair back and fastened it with a simple silver clasp, I was satisfied that I had managed to add a few years to my appearance.

I yanked off the zippered sweatshirt I was wearing, careful not to upset my hair, and pulled on my best black dress robes. A few simple, muttered Transfigurations dispensed with the decorative silver trim and loosened the waist slightly, making them seem equally formal but much more business-appropriate. Then I slipped on pantyhose and my black heels and regarded myself in the mirror.

I sighed but refused to let my spirit fall too drastically. I was never going to win any beauty contests, but that day I didn't have to care. I was only concerned about being presentable, and I certainly thought I had achieved that aim.

I was too nervous to eat, so I packed a light lunch in my purse and then locked up the house securely. My parents had left for work hours before, and with any luck, I would be home before they returned. I grabbed a handful of the Floo powder my mother kept in the living room for me and Flooed quickly to the Ministry, hoping that the dread and nervousness twining through my stomach would not cause me to become ill.

Mr. Weasley met me in the Atrium as I stumbled out of one of the many fireplaces and joined the other commuters in dusting off my robes and regaining my equilibrium. "Hello, Hermione," he said with a gentle smile, patting me on the shoulder. "Professor McGonagall's running a bit late. She asked me to escort you downstairs."

"All right. I know I'm a little early..." I glanced down at the simple silver watch of my mother's I had borrowed: 9:52. "Are they ready for me yet?"

He nodded. "I'm sure they'll stop their discussion to question you. Come with me."

I had no doubt that my terror, which had rapidly been building since I'd risen from bed and showered that morning, was now effortlessly readable on my face. Mr. Weasley led me to the main courtroom, walking just slightly behind me, a steadying, fatherly presence that kept me grounded and evened my already erratic breathing. When we were poised at the door, he instructed me in a gentle tone to wait just a moment and walked in to announce my arrival.

I hadn't returned the Chief Warlock's message with a request for Severus to be removed from the room during my testimony, which meant he was in there at that moment, completely unsuspecting that I would walk in. I took deep, calming breaths and closed my eyes, praying for the strength not only to survive their grilling but also to look him in the eye without breaking down. My emotions were still being wrenched in a thousand directions by what I'd seen, and after blowing up at him in his cell in Azkaban, I wasn't sure I could comport myself calmly and naturally in front of him.

The door opened. Mr. Weasley beckoned me in, and I walked with as straight and purposeful a gait as I could manage toward the front of the room. I could feel their eyes burning into me, and out of my peripheral vision, I noticed a large, black void on the side of the room, scrupulously guarded by two equally intimidating Aurors. I knew it was him, but I did not allow myself the momentary respite of glancing at him. I kept my gaze glued ahead of me, and my steps carefully measured until one of the attending Aurors escorted me to the witness chair.

Mr. Weasley graciously took my purse, and I thanked him. I was momentarily surprised that they were allowing him to be present, but my confusion was quickly resolved when he told me quietly that he would be waiting outside with my things when I was finished. I nodded and sat down, crossing my legs and folding my hands primly, surveying the room around me. It bore a striking resemblance to a Muggle courtroom but for the abnormally large dais before me, on which was seated the entirety of the Wizengamot.

The Chief Warlock...whose name I couldn't remember for the life of me; I was, simply put, far too nervous...thanked me for my timely arrival. I just nodded. Severus...Professor Snape, I reminded myself sharply, transitioning into student mode...was sitting about five yards to my right. He was indeed being guarded very closely by the Aurors. He shot me a speculative look, his expression rather cold and rapidly hardening as he deduced why I was there. I tried to wrench my gaze away from his face, but it was momentarily arrested by the sight of his haggard appearance and sunken eyes. He looked, if possible, worse than he had a few days prior. His hair did not appear to have been washed or cleaned, and his clothing was barely intact, let alone passable or appropriate. In my growing cynicism, I marveled at the lengths to which they would stoop to keep him looking grimy, immoral, and inferior.

"Miss Granger," spoke up a woman on the side of the Chief Warlock, "I realize that you have already been apprised of our reason for calling you here, so I'm going to dispense with the usual formalities. As you have been officially subpoenaed for your involvement in Mr. Snape's case, we are going to dose you with the accepted amount of Truth Serum and ask you several questions."

My entire body became cold and my stomach plummeted. You should have known they would require this, a small part of my brain taunted; but I was too busy succumbing to my personal terror to take much notice. It was undoubtedly routine procedure...I wasn't questioning their motives...but if they asked me how those memories had made me feel, I was going to have to tell them the truth... the whole truth.

And that was not, I reflected, my mouth suddenly dry and cottony, something I cared to do in front of Sev...Professor Snape.

Why hadn't I requested that he be kept elsewhere during my questioning? My outrageous desire simply to see him...for the barest, briefest glimpse of his face or sound of his voice...was not worth the unthinkable mortification facing me if they were to ask me a sensitive question.

"Yes, ma'am," the more socially intact portion of my brain forced my mouth to enunciate. I nodded, though I suspect the motion was rather stilted, and waited while one of the Aurors approached me and handed me a vial of Veritaserum. I gulped it down, nearly choking in my haste, and then handed the glass back to him. I stared back at the Wizengamot, who were waiting for the potion to take effect.

It was, in all honesty, the stuff of nightmares.

"Now, Miss Granger," the Chief Warlock began, waving a demonstrative hand toward his colleagues, "would you state for those assembled your full name?"

Slightly taken aback by the formality when the woman had just told me they would be dispensing with it entirely, I had to regain my voice before I could say in a steady tone, "My full name is Hermione Jane Granger."

"And you are a seventh-year student at Hogwarts, is that correct?" he continued, sounding bored by the rehearsed questions.

"Yes, sir, that is correct."

"Miss Granger, how did you first become involved in Mr. Snape's case?"

I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders, and faced the onslaught. "Headmistress McGonagall approached me approximately a week ago and told me that you required my help to view the memories from Professor Snape's Pensieve, as no fully trained, adult witch or wizard would be capable of doing so."

"You will refer to him as Mr. Snape, please," a rather snooty-looking wizard on the far right called out. "He is not currently employed at Hogwarts."

"With all due respect," I retorted in a slightly snappish voice, "Professor Snape has not been proven guilty and is therefore still eligible for tenure at Hogwarts, and I am still his student. I will show respect and use his full title."

The wizard narrowed his eyes at me, and the Chief Warlock looked faintly amused. "Very well, Miss Granger," he interjected rather diffidently. "You have a point. You may call him what you wish."

You're damn right I have a point, I fumed internally. You're treating him as though he's been sentenced since the day he was born.

"Now, Miss Granger, in the memories of Mr. Snape's you viewed, was there any mention of an Unbreakable Vow made to Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"Who mentioned this Vow?"

"Professor Dumbledore reminded Professor Snape that he had made a Vow to him and could not break it."

"And did Albus Dumbledore mention anything else pertaining to the Vow?" They were all leaning slightly forward in their chairs, growing increasingly more twitchy and on edge. This was the dangerous part, I knew.

"Professor Dumbledore also stated that his end, and I quote, 'would likely be at Severus' hand.' " For a moment I wondered if they would rebuke me for using his first name, but they seemed content to accept that it had been a direct quote and said nothing.

"And how did Mr. Snape respond to this statement?" The Chief Warlock was regarding me shrewdly, his rather large nose poking unpleasantly over the edge of the wooden dais.

"He did not reply to Professor Dumbledore verbally, but he seemed very upset by such a frank mention of his death, sir."

"Is it your opinion, Miss Granger, having witnessed these memories firsthand, that Mr. Snape killed Albus Dumbledore because he had made a legitimate Unbreakable Vow to do so in order to maintain his cover as a spy and for no other reason?"

"Yes, sir," I declared without hesitation. "There was no doubt in my mind after viewing the memory that Professor Dumbldore anticipated the need for his own death and forced Professor Snape to make an Unbreakable Vow promising that he would carry out the deed if it became necessary."

"I see," said the Chief Warlock simply. Just when I thought they were going to maintain their integrity as a governing body and refrain from asking me any personal questions, the uppity wizard who'd had the audacity to tell me Severus wasn't worthy of his title spoke up once again.

"Miss Granger," he said in a slow, poisonous tone, "tell us... What is your opinion of Professor Snape?"

I gritted my teeth and tried to suppress the reflex to speak, forcing it back just long enough to interject. "With all due respect sir, I believe giving my personal opinion in this matter would be entirely inappropriate, considering that we are supposed to be dealing with facts alone. Don't you agree, sir?" The magical compulsion to answer his question was overwhelming my senses. I began to sweat and tremble slightly, hoping the Chief Warlock would make him retract the question.

"Now, now, calm down, Miss Granger," the Chief Warlock said amiably, as though his colleague weren't at all out of line. "As a Hogwarts student, you are in an excellent role to give your opinion of Mr. Snape's character...and that is, after all, entirely relevant to this investigation. Please answer the question."

So now, after all the emphasis on recording only the bare facts and leaving the character judgment to them, they wanted my opinion of him as a person? Fine. I would answer it, all right.

"I consider Professor Snape to be a brilliant scientist and a very effective teacher." I was aware, as I said it, of how pathetic, how dissembling, it must have sounded, but the Veritaserum lay heavily on my tongue; it was difficult to refrain from speaking the many negatives of his personality let alone naturally deliver the positives.

"Is that all, Miss Granger?" Snooty Wizard asked in a bemused tone. I felt my cheeks grow hot.

"No, sir."

"Well, do continue. What else do you think of Professor Snape?"

I wanted to bite off my tongue, but there was nothing to be done to stem the flow of words. "I think he is extremely antisocial, unjustly cruel to students not in his own House, biased toward his Slytherins, and a highly unpleasant human being."

That about said it, didn't it? I wanted to crawl in the nearest hole and die.

Not a member of the Wizengamot didn't have a surprised and faintly skeptical eyebrow raised. "That's quite a mouthful," the Chief Warock remarked while the others tittered unpleasantly. Snooty Wizard, it appeared, had only just begun his offensive.

"Tell us, Miss Granger, what did you feel while going through Professor Snape's memories? You've given us your factual observations, but how did his actions make you feel, one person to another?"

I panicked, thinking they could hear the thumping of my heart. Certainly Severus would be able to. He had probably given up hope of ever seeing daylight again the moment I'd waltzed into the room, hopelessly young and ill-prepared to defend him against the bias and scrutiny of these vile people.

"I felt... that he was treated badly by everyone he came into contact with and was very misunderstood."

"Is that all you feel about him, Miss Granger?" asked a snide voice from the left that I quickly realized, with a sinking horror, I recognized perfectly: Umbridge. Undoubtedly she and Snooty Wizard had gotten together earlier that morning to discuss this particular stratagem for bringing me down.

"I feel that he has paid far more than his fair share of pain for what he has done and deserves to live the remainder of his life in peace," I ground out, no longer able to maintain a cool facade despite their eyes on me.

"Miss Granger, you and Professor Snape were both members of the... oh, what did you call it... Order of the Phoenix, is that correct?" Umbridge was making short, spiky scrawls with a lurid pink quill while purposefully avoiding my gaze and looking disinterested.

"Yes."

"And during this time, what was your relationship with Professor Snape?"

I imagine my shock looked genuine; I couldn't fathom how she could possibly have known that this was my weak point. Had she seen me staring at him? Had I daydreamed too deeply in her class and blurted out his name? Or was she just that incredibly evil?

"I had no relationship with Professor Snape other than as his student."

"But did you want one?" she asked sweetly, her grating voice echoing off the courtroom walls. They were, I was certain, the fateful words that would haunt me to my grave. The Veritaserum drove me forward while every nerve and instinct in my body was shrieking in futile protest.

"Yes." I tried to maintain a normal volume and tone in my voice, but it was difficult. I knew I'd been discovered, and all I could do was wonder, belatedly and miserably, why I hadn't demanded that he be kept somewhere else. He didn't need to hear this. "I would have liked to be his friend," I added, hoping, though I knew it was in vain, that it would placate her.

"Ms. Umbridge," spoke up the Chief Warlock, "I really don't see that this is relevant..."

"Oh, but don't you see? It's no wonder the girl is defending him. Are you attracted to Professor Snape, Miss Granger?"

Fuck.

"Yes." I had to consciously keep my gaze straight forward and my head erect. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and avoid the world.

"And for how long has this attraction been going on?"

My jaw felt so tight that I thought for a moment I'd snapped it so hard I had damaged it. "Two years."

"And are you still attracted to him despite...let's see, what was it..." She snatched up a piece of parchment and began to recite in a cheerful voice, "A history of violence against others, sexual promiscuity, treason, rape..."

I wanted to refuse to allow her to make me feel ashamed, but I couldn't hide the increasing despair in my voice. "Yes."

"Well, as you can all see, there is clearly no case here. The girl is practically in love with him. She has been for years. No doubt she tampered with the memories after seeing their true contents..."

My own humiliation I knew I could bear, but I simply couldn't sit there while she contorted the facts to her own wicked ends. "Sir," I said to the Chief Warlock, "may I have your permission to speak freely while I am still under the influence of the Veritaserum?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. Ms. Umbridge, you will stand down." He looked slightly peaked, and I had no doubt that he hadn't foreseen that this farce of an interrogation would drag on for so long before they could convict him even half-credibly.

"My personal feelings for Professor Snape are not the slightest bit relevant to this investigation. They have not compromised my ability to recognize faults within his character, and I have demonstrated that to you under the influence of Veritaserum. I could not possibly have fabricated that. Furthermore"...I glared in Umbridge's general direction..."I have given you a truthful assessment of his past and all the facts necessary for you to pardon him of this crime. It was, as I have said to you, at Albus Dumbledore's behest, and you are holding him captive when you have no right to do so.

"This does, in fact, illustrate a very good point: I do not like Professor Snape as a person, and you have given me no opportunity to lie or claim otherwise. Yet somehow I am able to accept that for the sake of justice, it is necessary for me to put aside my personal feelings on the matter because he has sacrificed his life countless times so that we could be here today. Think what you want of his personal morals, but you are not trying him for those. You are trying him for murder, and that is one crime he has not committed."

In the wake of my outburst, the members of the Wizengamot began nodding thoughtfully, murmuring amongst themselves. Umbridge's face had become a rather interesting, violent shade of puce as she realized that the tide was turning. I felt my heart drag itself off the floor and begin to climb its way slowly back into my chest. It seemed as though my rant had had the desired effect.

"You have spoken well and very wisely, Miss Granger," the Chief Warlock announced, his voice once again formal. "I don't believe any of us has viewed the case in such a frank manner, in fact. In light of your testimony, we will take what I hope will be our final vote." He turned toward the other members. "Now, all in favor of pardoning Severus Snape for the death of Albus Dumbledore, please raise your wands."

All but two wands, Umbridge's and Snooty Wizard's, rose slowly but steadily into the air. I was so happy that I thought, for one moment, I would surely faint.

**********************

Author's Note:

I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed thus far. I am so happy you're enjoying it, and I would like nothing more than to keep updating at the pace I have set. However, I have two exams to study for and an enormous laboratory report due soon, and schoolwork is, and always has been, my top priority.

I'll do my best to fit it in between classes and bouts of studying, but please forgive me if I'm slow. :) And again, thank you so much for your reviews! You've made posting this such a fun experience.

--DD