Nineteen for the Family ...

Chapter 23: Nineteen for the Family ...

Golden sunlight smiled down upon the tiny village of Marsh Gibbon, winking through leaf-heavy branches to warm the soggy ground. Beneath the shelter of a massive horse chestnut tree, Hermione and Snape appeared without a sound, undetectable but for the chattering of a startled squirrel. Hermione peered through the leaves and surveyed the park.

"We're alone," she said. She pulled aside a branch and searched for the road. "The house isn't far. We'll just travel east and..."

Words failed her the moment she turned to address Snape. He had removed his robes, and rather than his usual long, black tunic, he wore a simple white shirt, open at the collar. She stared at the plain garment and swallowed. Her gaze strayed to his waist, to the shirt neatly tucked into dark trousers, and her mind instantly supplied a scenario in which she wasn't encumbered by the typical plethora of buttons.

"My eyes are up here," he said with a crooked smile.

She should have been embarrassed, but she smiled back. "You look rather nice all Muggled up."

"Thank you," he replied with an exaggerated bow.

Remembering how impulsive his decision to accompany her had seemed, she frowned at the lack of wizardswear. "Had you planned on meeting my parents when we left Hogwarts this morning?" she asked.

"No, I had a far different motive for donning such garb." He looked uncertain. "I thought we might dine together tonight."

"Don't we always?"

"I was thinking of something a bit more refined than the staff table at Hogwarts."

"Oh," she said.

"I believe we have earned a dinner outside the castle, far from the eyes of staff and students."

Her smile returned. "I'd like that very much."

"Reservations have been made for eight o'clock," he said, rifling through his folded robes and removing the envelope Millie had given him. He handed it to her and said, "I have been assured of this establishment's reputation."

Inside the envelope, she found maps and directions to Chutney Mary, an Indian restaurant in Chelsea. A review from a Muggle newspaper had also been included, and a quick scan revealed an impressive amount of praise for the cuisine as well as the romantic atmosphere.

"I'm sure it will be lovely." She stowed the envelope and turned away. "Thank you."

The gesture was so simple...so basic, really. Something normal couples undoubtedly did countless times over the course of their relationship. Why should the act of something so ordinary leave her feeling so moved? He seemed to have arranged everything solely for her benefit, from the intimate setting to the timing of a much-needed distraction. That uncomfortable feeling returned to her chest, and although some part of her recognised it for precisely what it was, she pushed the thought aside and stepped beyond the tree's seclusion.

"We'd best go," she whispered when she sensed Snape behind her.

"After you."

They travelled along a quiet lane in silence while she rehearsed a way to inform her parents of their upcoming surveillance. As important as the task was, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering, from imagining what her parents would think of Snape and how he would react to being thrust into typical Muggle life.

She occupied herself by calculating the growth rate of her apprehension, unsurprised to find it directly proportionate to the decrease in distance separating them from her parents' home.

More for her own assurance, she said, "My parents have always enjoyed the witches and wizards they've met. I'm certain they'll accept your presence without question."

"I was not worried."

"Of course not," she said, fluttering her hand in the air to dismiss the thought. "They'll be far more focused on me, regardless ... wondering why I haven't yet married and provided them grandchildren to spoil." She closed her eyes and sighed. Why had she felt compelled to share that?

He was silent for several paces. "Why haven't you married?" he asked finally.

She thrust her hands in her pockets. The answer she'd always given her parents...that she hadn't yet found the right man...suddenly felt like a lie. She had found him: a man with whom she could envision spending the rest of her life without ever growing bored. Admitting it wasn't nearly as shocking as she had anticipated, probably because finding him had turned out to be the easiest part. She doubted she could ever fit into Snape's life...or into his heart...in any way that might have fulfilled her preconceived notions of a proper, long-term commitment. Right man ... wrong circumstances.

"Something else always seemed more important," she answered at last. "First, there was university, and then I poured my life into the research at Arglist. It's tough to maintain a relationship when you're busy fulfilling the secret agenda of an evil wizard."

He snorted softly. "Yes, I can well recall," he said. "But you left Arglist several years ago."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Have you no desire for marriage ... for children?"

Why was he asking her these questions? "I suppose a lot would depend on who the hypothetical husband was," she said.

The lane turned sharply. They startled a pair of magpies as they rounded the bend, and Snape watched the birds fly into an empty field. She wished she could see his expression. It was impossible to guess his thoughts, but somehow she doubted they had anything to do with the birds that had claimed his attention.

"I must admit," he said, still looking away, "I was rather surprised when I heard you had escaped betrothal."

"Escaped?" She smiled. "You make it sound like a prison sentence. Or worse."

"I do not wish to impugn the concept of matrimony. I had simply assumed you would marry..."

He stopped short of uttering a name, and she stared at him until he continued.

"Young," he said with a frown. "I had assumed you would marry young, perhaps after post-graduate studies."

"There was a time when I had assumed the same." She shook her head. "But I doubt you'd find many little girls who dream of dying an old maid, in a house with thirty cats."

In the distance, her parents' home became visible through the trees, and she pointed it out as they approached. The nearer they drew, the more his pace seemed to slow. "I wonder what little Miss Granger dreamt of as a girl?" he asked quietly.

"Little Miss Granger was quite practical and boring, I assure you." The memory made her laugh. "Whilst other young girls fantasised about fairy tale princes and magical castles, I had my sights set on a Nobel Prize."

"Ah, yes." She could almost hear him smiling around the words.

"Ironic, really," she said, "when you consider I now live in an enchanted castle, surrounded by magic spells and mythical creatures." There was only one piece missing from the fairy tale. She bumped her shoulder against his, her voice playful as she said, "Don't tell anyone, but I've been having an affaire with a prince, as well. Sure, he's only a half-blood, but happily-ever-after doesn't come without a bit of sacrifice."

Carefully tended flowers lined the edges of her parents' property. She stepped closer to admire her father's handiwork, but Snape grasped her hand and pulled her around. He studied her face, his countenance so serious it made her wonder if he had changed his mind about meeting her parents.

Several moments passed before he said, "Hermione, I..."

She had never seen him so hesitant. "Yes?" she asked when the silence grew awkward.

"I... "

"She's here, Eleanor!" called a deep voice from the garden, drawing their attention.

Snape released her hand when the front door opened, and she mumbled, "Sorry," before turning to greet her father and mother. After a quick embrace, she introduced Snape and watched everyone shake hands and size one another up.

Each time she saw her parents, she was struck by how much older they appeared. They remained middle-aged in her memories, but the greyed hair and smiling, lined faces revealed a couple closer to eighty than sixty. Thanks to the Arglist team's early genetic research, Hermione had been able to provide potions that might lessen common ailments seen in elderly Muggles. There was nothing she could do to prolong their lives, but if she could spare them the pain of arthritis or stave off dementia, then perhaps something good would have come from her time at Arglist.

"Your mother insisted on baking the instant she heard you were coming," John Granger said.

Eleanor Granger nodded. "I made your favourite, dear. We were delighted you rang...it's not often we get to see you so unexpectedly." Her deep blue eyes regarded Snape with obvious interest.

Hermione's stomach sank. Earlier, she had told her parents there was an important matter she needed to discuss with them. One look at their faces told her precisely what assumption they had made from her request for an urgent visit. Arriving upon their doorstep with Snape at her side had likely added to their expectation of a happy announcement. She swallowed past the regret that thickened her throat. This was going to be harder than she'd thought.

Her father gestured towards the house. "Shall we?"

"I'd love to tour the gardens later," she told him and followed her parents inside.

His ready agreement made her smile, but the results he had achieved through organic gardening justified his pride. Hermione had harvested enough herbs and flowers over the summer holidays to fill half the Potions storeroom, and she was eager to see what spring varietals she might sample.

After hanging their robes on a coat tree, they left the narrow hall and entered a small parlour. The scent of freshly baked scones made Hermione's mouth water. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, and suddenly she was five years old, standing beside her mother, covered in flour after her first cookery lesson.

"I've acquired three new first-editions since you last visited," said her father, tempting her with another indulgence as he gestured to one of the many bookshelves lining the walls.

"I can't wait to see," she said.

Snape expressed a similar interest. After admiring the books for a moment, she left the men discussing Defoe and went to help her mother prepare tea.

Eleanor had obviously been waiting for her. "We'd best hurry. Your father does tend to go on about his books," she said the moment Hermione entered the kitchen.

"I doubt Severus will mind...he shares our affinity for reading."

"He seems like a pleasant young man."

"Mm-hm." Few people would dare describe Snape in such a manner, but thus far, he had done nothing that could contradict her mother's statement.

"Have you known him long?"

"Yes, actually." She avoided her mother's scrutiny by piling still-warm scones onto a faded Spode tray. A lone currant lay on the baking pan, and she popped it into her mouth, its plump sweetness reminding her she'd skipped breakfast in her haste to reach the Ministry.

"Don't they feed you at that school of yours?" asked her mother. "I swear you've lost a stone since last we saw you."

Her mother was correct, as usual, but the weight loss had more to do with stress than the quality of meals at Hogwarts. "It's been a ... a busy year."

"I had gathered as much," replied her mother, lifting one carefully pencilled eyebrow. She glanced at the kitchen door and craned her neck in the direction of the parlour, as if checking to see if they'd be overheard. "I believe I understand now why your letters have been so brief this year."

"Mum, please don't get the wrong impression from my bringing Severus here today."

"And what impression would that be? That the two of you are ... together?"

"Right."

"But aren't you?"

"Well ... yes, I suppose so ... we are in a relationship." The soft smile on her mother's face unnerved her almost as much as the calm acceptance. "I just don't want you to imagine it's more serious than it actually is."

And still, her mother did not speak.

The silence nearly broke her, but it was the truth she saw reflected in the perceptive blue eyes that finally forced more words from her mouth. She looked down and rubbed at an imaginary spot on the baking pan. "I suppose it ... it is serious, in a way, but it's not what you'd consider ... traditional."

"Darling, you are a witch who teaches magic and flies on dragons," she said. "I gave up on traditional a long time ago."

Hermione smiled her agreement, but her expression froze at her mother's next question.

"Now, why haven't you told your young man that you're in love with him?"

"I ... how do you know ... what makes you think ..."

"Hermione, dear, please don't underestimate me." She set a stack of cups and saucers on a tray and said, "It doesn't matter how old you grow or how far apart our worlds become. I will always be your mother, and there are simply some things you cannot hide from me."

She ought to be used to this by now. There had been a similar lecture after her first year at university, when her mother had somehow known she was no longer a virgin. Denial had been futile all those years ago. It seemed even more pointless now.

"You win, Mum." She dropped her shoulders and voiced the thought she had refused to acknowledge, the truth that had plagued her dreams. "I do love him."

There...she'd said it. She glanced around the room, but the walls didn't shake and the roof did not collapse. It was a promising start.

"I'm very happy for you, dear," said her mother. "But why does the thought of love make you look so miserable?"

"Sorry," she replied. "It's just ... complicated."

Her mother studied her with a frown. "You think he doesn't feel the same for you." It was not a question.

"I know it."

"He's told you this?"

"Yes," she said. "Before we even began the relationship, he told me he wouldn't pretend to be in love with me." She warmed the teapot before adding tealeaves and hot water, grateful for rote tasks to keep her from dwelling on that day, her easy acceptance of a loveless relationship. "It wasn't an issue at that point," she said, justifying the decision to herself as well as her mother. "I did not pretend to be in love with him either."

"But your feelings have obviously changed since then." When Hermione nodded, she asked, "Isn't it possible his have changed, as well?"

Hermione did not answer. There was no way she could explain the history...his ties to Lily...in the time it took to brew the tea.

"Not to argue semantics," continued her mother, "but saying you will not pretend to love someone isn't quite the same as saying you will not ever love them."

She resisted the urge to bite her lip. "I suppose ..."

Her mother seemed content to let her ponder in silence while she added the tea service to the tray with the cups and saucers. Hermione stacked plates and cutlery onto another tray where the scones sat beside a pot of Devonshire cream and a bowl of homemade jam.

She followed her mother into the parlour and ignored the rush of butterflies in her stomach when Snape rose to take the heavy tray from her mother's hands.

After pouring the tea, her mother turned to Snape and asked, "What do you do at Hogwarts, Severus?"

"I teach Potions, the same as your daughter."

"Ah, excellent," said her father.

Hermione slathered her scone in far too much cream and took a generous bite, savouring each velvety crumb as it melted in her mouth.

"Isn't it remarkable she now teaches her least favourite subject?" her father asked. When Snape merely raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, her father continued, "Oh, yes ... She was not fond of Potions at Hogwarts, although I believe it had more to do with the professor than the subject."

She chewed fast and waved her hand, desperate to stop her father from elaborating further.

It didn't work. "I suspect that old Potions master would be heartily impressed if he could see her now," her father said.

She swallowed at last and said, "Dad, you should know..."

"I am sure you are correct, Mr Granger," Snape said, silencing her protest by fixing her with a gaze that stole the words from her mouth, the breath from her lungs. Although he addressed her father, his eyes held hers as he spoke. "I doubt any of his students have accomplished half as much as your daughter."

She wasn't sure how much time passed before she remembered to close her mouth.

He broke the spell at last and turned his attention to her parents. "Unfortunately, great accomplishments can prove to be great burdens, with far-reaching consequences," he said.

"That is precisely why we're here," agreed Hermione. "In light of some ... information ... we have received, the Ministry of Magic has arranged a protective guard for you both."

Identical expressions of confusion stared back at her. Her stomach twisted, but she spared no time for guilt and launched into a highly abridged explanation for the Aurors' upcoming presence. Her parents soon surmised the threat to their safety was merely an extension of the danger facing their daughter, and their concern immediately shifted to her welfare. She was grateful for Snape's company, as the assurances he offered seemed to ease her parents' worst fears.

They spent the next two hours securing the surroundings with complex spells and protective enchantments. As the sun skimmed the horizon, two figures approached the house. Their drab, brown robes identified them as Aurors, the result of the Minister's edict requiring colour-coded departments within the Ministry.

Snape asked the Aurors a series of questions about the Ministry before moving to several seemingly random inquiries about Lucius, Arglist, and Malfoy Industries.

After introductions were made, her parents explained their routines and commitments, including a much-anticipated bridge tournament that night against their neighbours, the Gilberts. Hermione smiled at their relief when they learnt they would still be allowed to attend, provided the Aurors accompanied them under the guise of a Disillusionment charm.

Hermione frowned as she watched her parents lead the Aurors on an inspection of their house and environs. "I'm sure Lucius has the resources to bribe half the Ministry," she said to Snape when they couldn't be overheard. "I hope it's not a mistake to trust these men."

"It is not a mistake," he answered without pause. "Their loyalty and sense of justice is strong, although they seem less than impressed with Gregor. Most importantly, neither man has any affiliation with Lucius or his interests."

"How can you know that?" she asked. When he did not reply, she answered her own question. "You used Legilimency on them."

"That disturbs you."

"It just seems like such a violation."

"They relinquished their expectation of privacy when they assumed responsibility for the lives of others," he reminded her. "Would you have me ask permission first?"

"You could at least warn them."

"And give them an opportunity to employ Occlumency?"

She supposed there wouldn't be much point to that. "Is that why you asked such odd questions about the Malfoys? To surprise them into revealing something?"

"In effect, yes," he replied. "An unexpected question can provide just enough space to slip behind even the most hidden thoughts."

She wrapped her arms around herself, chilled despite the warmth of her jumper, and remembered the thoughts she had once been so desperate to hide from Snape. At least the Aurors had been spared the pain she had experienced during Legilimency...they had seemed completely unaware of Snape entering their minds.

"Occlumency is only effective if the subject can anticipate the Legilimens's next several moves," Snape said, slipping into the role of professor. "Much like chess, it requires a keen strategic mind, making it impossible for some witches and wizards to learn."

She thought of Harry and nodded. She had been so frustrated with him in fifth-year when he had failed to master Occlumency as Dumbledore had requested. But perhaps he had been genuinely unable...not just unwilling...to learn the skill.

"You still seem unconvinced," he said.

"I just wish there was another way."

"Do you trust Gregor and the Ministry so implicitly that you would risk your parents' lives to protect the rights of a stranger?"

"I don't trust Gregor at all," she replied.

"Then you must be prepared to make difficult choices," he said.

She glanced away and saw her parents exit the house, flanked by the Aurors. "I can sacrifice some morals if it means their safety," she said. "Within reason, of course."

"I am not suggesting we eliminate Lucius outright," he said, "although it would provide a simple solution to our problems." At her startled expression, he shook his head. "Even I draw the line at cold-blooded murder."

"I'm glad to hear it." Admitting she was in love with a former Death Eater was enough of a blow for one day.

"Tell me honestly, though," he said, lowering his voice as the others approached, "Had I learnt they'd been sent here to kidnap and torture your parents, would you care how that information had been obtained?"

The scenario terrified her, the possibility too real to even contemplate. "No," she stated firmly. "No, I would not."

He watched her for a moment and then nodded. "That's what I thought," he said before repeating her earlier sentiment. "I'm glad to hear it."

Her mother insisted the Aurors join her inside for leftover scones, and her father took advantage of his captive audience to show off gardens that could have featured at the Chelsea Flower Show. Hermione admired the vibrancy of the flowerbeds where brilliant red and orange tulips bled into showy yellow daffodils, a tropical sunset over an ocean of bluebells and grape hyacinth.

"You've done an amazing thing here, Dad," she said as they left the flowers for a patch of young herbs.

"Thank you," he replied. "I don't fancy leaving this house."

Guilt returned when he gave her a very pointed look.

"Australia was fine," he said, "a bit of a lark, in the end. But your mother and I are far too old for such adventures now. We're quite content to live out our lives here, however long that may be...two days or twenty years."

"I understand," she said. "I will do everything in my power to make sure it's the latter."

Seeing Snape's frown, she explained, "After sixth-year, I modified their memories and sent them to Australia with new names and false histories." When he merely stared at her, she cleared her throat. "I thought it best they forget their daughter, just in case."

"You couldn't have been more than seventeen at the time," he said.

She nodded.

"Those spells would have required exceptionally advanced magic."

"I'm an exceptional witch." Her wink only drew more silent scrutiny.

"Quite so," he said at last. His hand brushed against hers as they followed her father to a field of budding lavender. She thought the light touch was accidental until his knuckles grazed her wrist again. His fingers stroked the side of her hand, softly, quickly, his little finger briefly hooking hers before he broke the contact.

Her smile remained while they finished viewing her father's accomplishments, fleeing only when the time came to part ways. She hugged her parents and kept the image of them waving goodbye fixed in her mind, her determination to stop Lucius...even if it meant risking her memories...bolstered by the visit.

As they walked, they tested the range of the Anti-Apparition field the Ministry had placed upon the area, satisfied when it extended nearly all the way to the small park where they'd arrived earlier. The horse chestnut tree loomed in the distance, an impressive silhouette against the rose-hued shadows of dusk.

Several hours had passed since she'd devoured her mother's scones, and her appetite returned with the thought of hot pillows of naan and a thali full of spicy vegetables. She wished she could alter the circumstances precipitating her travels today, but at least she had the unexpected pleasure of dining outside the castle to distract her now.

"I think it's best we don't mention our dinner plans to anyone at Hogwarts," she said.

"Oh?"

"Minerva and Dumbledore are already far too interested in the status of our relationship. There will be no stopping them if they hear we dined at some romantic Muggle restaurant. Merlin help us if they ever learn you came to meet my parents...they'll be wagering on wedding dates and names for our children next."

She had nearly reached the tree before she realised Snape was no longer beside her. Turning around, she tried not to laugh at his expression.

"Don't worry," she said, trudging back to where he stood motionless and unblinking. "I did my best to discourage them."

He captured her hand and tugged her closer. "Marriage and children ..." He shook his head, his frown so severe it etched deep lines across his forehead. "You must realise I cannot give you those things."

"I don't recall asking you for them."

"Yet you cannot deny you want them."

"Perhaps." She shrugged. "Some day. Right now, I want to be with you more."

"Even if you are wasting your time?"

Her temper flared. "It's my time to waste. And it just so happens I don't consider you a waste of my time."

"But to assume otherwise would defy logic."

"Of course it does...there is no logic to love."

Apparently, there wasn't much forethought or caution, either. The words tumbled from her mouth before she could consider their wisdom. The effect was immediate.

He dropped her hand and stumbled back, his earlier frown twisting as he continued to shake his head. She turned away, unable to meet his gaze for fear of what she might find in his eyes. Why couldn't she have held her tongue? She had barely admitted her true feelings to herself...surely, it was too soon to share them. What if he rejected her, pushed her away?

Then he doesn't deserve your love, said a strong, determined voice in her head. Several moments passed while she searched for an argument, but the wisdom was impossible to deny.

"Right," she mumbled and turned back around.

Her ears rang, but she squared her shoulders and found his eyes. "Surprise," she whispered.

She tried to gauge his expression. Night had descended, making it impossible to discern anything but shock in the burgeoning moonlight.

He stepped closer. "Hermione, I ... I can't ..."

She waited for him to continue, but he seemed unable to summon words.

"Can not?" she asked. "Or will not?" She wondered if he appreciated the difference.

Now it was his turn to spin away, revealing nothing but his back, his hands at his sides clenching and unclenching into fists. She thought she felt him flinch when she wrapped her fingers around his arm and forced him to face her.

"I wasn't expecting you to reciprocate," she said. "I hadn't even planned on telling you...I certainly don't expect you to fall to your knees and confess your undying love for me."

He dragged his palm down his face. "Why must this be so difficult?" he asked, looking more tortured by her proclamation of love than if she'd performed the Cruciatus curse.

"I assure you this isn't easy for me, either," she said. "I always thought love would be tender and sweet and safe...I never expected any of this. Do you think it brings me joy to accept my love will never be returned?"

Her heart slammed against her ribs, each beat a protest to the unfairness of having its efforts ignored. She lowered her voice and asked, "Do you think I find comfort in loving a man whose heart belongs to another?"

He shook his head. After several moments, he whispered, "This is not possible," as if he genuinely did not believe her. "How could you allow this? How could you ever love such a man?"

She swallowed. "How could I not?"

Time stood still while she waited for him to speak, to refute her claims and tell her she was being foolish. He said nothing, just studied her with such intense concentration she might have thought he was searching her mind if not for the lack of pain in her head. The ache in her heart made up for it as the minutes crept by.

He inhaled deeply. With one final shake of his head, he bridged the small gap between them and cupped her face in his palms. Relief rolled over her when his lips touched hers. She closed her eyes and let everything fade away. She knew fear and doubt would return the moment their lips parted, just as she knew the stoic, moonlit tree would still be standing when she opened her eyes. She would deal with that later...for now, there was just the magic of a kiss. And for one perfect moment, she allowed herself to dream.

My sister commissioned the incredible Ellygator and gifted me with beautiful artwork for this chapter. It makes me swoon every time I see it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I! And if you've never seen Elly's work before, be sure to check out her gallery on Deviant Art: http://ellygator.deviantart.com/gallery/