Twenty for a Gift

Chapter 25: Twenty for a Gift

Having little time for research, Hermione groaned when a knock on the laboratory door interrupted her study of a salamander blood chromatogram. Friday evenings provided her only opportunity for lab work, and she was in no mood for distractions. She marched to the door and flung it open, only to find dozens of students clustered in the corridor. After a quick scan, she recognised each face from her after-hours study group, and her hands went to her hips.

"All right, you lot," she said. "I never thought I'd say this, but it is possible to study too much."

She had dissolved the group at the close of May, a month that had passed in a blur of activity. "You know the material inside and out," she assured them. "Just keep practicing the spells on your own, and you'll do fine."

"We're not here to study, Professor," said Jim Dawkins, a burly seventh-year Hufflepuff. He shuffled closer and indicated a clumsily wrapped package. "We wanted to give you this."

"What is it?"

"Just something to thank you for all the extra help you gave us this year."

"Oh." Her shoulders dropped, and she accepted the package he shoved at her. "That wasn't necessary." They followed her into the lab, their eager eyes scanning the unusual equipment.

"I was more than happy to help with your studies," she said. "You certainly shouldn't have felt obligated to..."

She gasped. Inside the package, a very ornate, very old book lay nestled in a swatch of black velvet. Her finger traced lightly over the title: Magical Arts: A History of Creative Witches and Wizards. Although there were many references to the book, few editions remained in existence, and even the top wizarding library in Britain lacked a copy.

Unable to resist a peek inside, she carefully lifted the cover and opened pages at random. A painting in rich, deep blues made her smile. It was clearly a Renoir, yet unlike all his other works...certainly unlike anything displayed in Muggle museums. Tiny white boats bounced upon waves so fluid and real her finger upon the page felt wet. She could smell the brine of the sea-misted air and hear water lapping against the hulls of the boats when she poked at them. The group of sea-bathers in the foreground seemed not at all pleased with her intrusion as they turned their softly focused gazes upon her. She quickly turned the page, her heart racing when hundreds of jumbled musical notes arranged themselves onto staffs and a symphony roared to life. Beethoven, she thought, and flipped another page, stopping at a sonnet entitled, "My Wand for Your Kiss." Her smile broadened. She couldn't wait to see her father's reaction when she told him Shakespeare had been a wizard.

"Do you like it?" asked Jim.

"It's amazing." She shook her head. "I have spent years searching for this book...it's terribly rare and terribly expensive. However did you manage to buy this?"

"Well, we didn't buy it, exactly."

She froze. Surely they hadn't stolen it.

"We worked for it," Jim said quickly. "We earned it."

"How?" she asked.

A pretty Ravenclaw fifth-year volunteered the answer. "It was Professor Snape's idea, actually," she said. "We weren't sure what you might like, so we had a contest to determine who would ask Professor Snape for a suggestion."

Hermione had a feeling the task had fallen to the loser of the contest, not the winner.

"Professor Snape said you would like that book," explained Jim, "but he said it would be impossible to buy one."

"He was correct on both counts," she said.

"So he gave us his copy of the book instead," said the Ravenclaw. "We just had to work for him, in return. He said it was important we leant the value of sacrifice."

"What sort of work?" She almost dreaded the answer.

"Oh, loads of stuff," said Jim. "We gathered ingredients for the Potions storeroom, we scrubbed cauldrons, we did extra essays ... we even tutored some of his first-years ... mostly the Muggle-borns." Jim scratched his head. "He never ran short of ideas, really."

"I can well imagine," she said. "I'm surprised you were able to accomplish all this while devoting time to your class work and our study group."

"We worked for Professor Snape during our free periods," said the Ravenclaw. "And we all skipped the last Hogsmeade weekend."

A missed visit to Honeydukes and Zonko's was probably the greatest sacrifice they'd made in their young lives. Hermione blinked the moisture from her eyes and escorted them to the door. "Thank you all so much," she said. "I cannot wait to read it."

She hugged the book to her chest and watched them hurry away. They probably thought her mad for desiring something as boring as a book. She smiled and doubted they would ever understand the perfection of their gift.

As impressive as her students' efforts had been, it was Snape's role she couldn't ignore. That he owned the book in the first place was a surprise, but that he'd be willing to relinquish his ownership was almost too shocking to wrap her mind around. Such a book was to be treasured above all other possessions, more valuable than a gold cauldron, more meaningful than a diamond. Her smile froze.

A diamond.

The very symbol of romance and commitment, of two souls bound together in ceremony.

She gazed at the worn book in her hands and knew its worth far exceeded any chunk of compressed carbon. Albeit through proxy, Snape had just given her what had to be his most valuable possession. And surely, he wouldn't have parted with it unless...

She shook her head. It couldn't be. Yet the more she considered it, the more she felt certain he wouldn't have given her the book unless he felt confident it...and therefore, she...would always remain near.

The thought made her head spin, so much so she almost missed the platinum flash hurrying past her door.

"Oi!" she called.

Draco's face was barely visible amidst a tower of boxes and bags. At her shout, he stopped in the middle of the corridor and paused for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to leave or to stay. Finally, dozens of parcels floated towards her with Draco following close behind. She stepped aside. The boxes were piled onto the floor while the bags took up residence along her worktable.

"You've been avoiding me," she said.

"Can you blame me?"

For one horrible moment, she thought he knew about her trip to the Ministry, her private war against his father. But he leant against the table, his legs casually crossed before him, and said, "Rolanda and Filius have regaled me with horror-filled tales of you and your task list for the anniversary event."

"Oh, it's not that bad," she said.

His pale brows rose, but he remained silent.

She dodged his gaze by scooting onto the table across from him, afraid he would realise she'd been avoiding him, too. If everything went according to plan...if she and Snape achieved the best possible outcome...Lucius would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, and Draco's life would inexorably change. She was, in essence, trading the safety of her family for the destruction of his. Standing on the right side of morality didn't make it any easier to hurt her friend, to rob his children of their grandfather. She had lain awake countless nights, searching for another solution, but the reality seemed inescapable. She pushed it from her mind, one more nightmare added to the mountain of things she tried not to think about.

"Volunteerism for the event has dwindled," she told him, "so I've been forced to assign a task or two to some of the staff. Any horror has been grossly exaggerated, I assure you."

"I'd like to help, really I would," he said. "But with the baby due in a few weeks, I've been trying to spend more time at home, helping Luna with the twins."

"How is she feeling?"

"She's faring well, I believe. Just a bit impatient now that the time has almost arrived."

Hermione smiled. "Please let her know I've been thinking of her."

"I shall."

"Given the circumstances, I suppose I can grant you a reprieve from anniversary event duties."

"I appreciate that," he said. "I certainly have no wish to disrespect the task list."

"Do not mock the task list," she warned.

He smirked. "I hear it's colour-coded."

"It is."

"With symbols and a legend?"

"Maybe."

"And organised into a timeline?"

"Perhaps."

When he seemed unable to contain his laughter, she retrieved her quill and pretended to write on her hand. "I only called you in here for gift suggestions, but that settles it: one Gryffindor sleep-suit for baby Malfoy. There ... done!"

"Don't forget to mark that off your task list."

She lifted her chin. "For your information, that particular item was not on my task list." It was on her shopping list, inside her desk.

"Let me guess: the weekend chores list?"

"Keep at it, my friend, and I'll make it a Hufflepuff sleep-suit."

He shook his head. "Just cruel ..."

"You know I love all the Houses equally."

"An easy claim to make when Gryffindor leads the House Cup race."

"Do they?" she asked. "I hadn't noticed."

"Liar."

She changed the subject. "Isn't there anything you need for the baby?"

"Definitely not." He glanced at the boxes on the floor and shook his head. "The baby has more than enough already."

"Well, you're no help at all." She pretended to pout.

"If this is something you feel strongly about, I can only recommend you focus your attention on Luna, rather than the baby."

"That's a lovely idea."

"Isn't it, though?" His arrogant smile faded as he turned his head and gazed out the window. "She never asks for anything," he said quietly. "Never complains ... never gets upset. She deserves to be spoilt for a change."

His devotion to Luna was plain to see, a fierce and beautiful thing. She wondered if Snape would ever feel the same about her, and without thought, her hand reached out to touch the book she'd just received. In time, perhaps ...

For now, she could only smile at the dreamy expression on her friend's face. "Draco's in loooooove," she teased.

"Hush, woman." His grin softened the admonishment.

Changing the subject again, she hopped off the table and pointed to the boxes and bags littering her laboratory. "What's all this, then?" she asked. "Moving sale?"

He glanced at the pile and shook his head. "I made the mistake of having lunch at the Manor today," he said. "Mother saved every blessed outfit I ever wore and insisted I take them all with me."

She plucked a tiny white shift from a box and toyed with the fussy lace collar and green satin ribbons.

"Oh yes, I can absolutely picture you in this," she said.

He sneered but dumped more garments upon the table, and they passed several minutes admiring elaborate little hats and thick, woollen socks.

"Your mother was very keen on keeping you warm," Hermione remarked, stroking a miniature ermine cloak lined with shimmering dragon's hide.

"I was a very cold child."

"You don't have to remind me," she said. Seeing him wince, she added, "Luckily, you've improved with age."

"I wouldn't call it luck, pet, but I appreciate the sentiment."

She handed the small cloak to him. "I think it's lovely your mother saved all this."

"I suppose it is." His brow furrowed as he folded a small blanket. "I shouldn't complain, as I've done nothing to discourage her enthusiasm. It's nice to see her enjoying herself for a change, not worrying about..."

His frown dissolved the instant he met her gaze, replaced by a smooth, smiling mask. "She's quite excited, obviously."

"Is there anything ... of concern ... with the pregnancy?"

"No, of course not," he said. "Everything seems to be progressing as expected."

"Then why is your mother worried?" She already knew the answer but couldn't help ask the question. When Draco just smiled and shook his head, she placed her hand on his arm and felt, rather than heard, his sigh.

"Father has been acting strangely," he said.

She swallowed. "Luna mentioned he was rather ... fanatical ... about the baby being a boy."

"That's an understatement," he said. "But this began before we learnt the sex of the baby ... before we learnt of the baby at all, actually. Mother believes it's getting worse each day. He's obsessed with something, but he won't confide in her."

She lowered her gaze to the floor. She knew precisely what had caused Lucius's obsession, but how could she tell Draco without jeopardising the Ministry's investigation? "Are you ... are you close to your father?"

"You honestly have to ask?"

She held her palms up. More than magic separated families like the Malfoys from the Grangers. She had no idea how they behaved towards one another in private.

"I always thought Father was rather obvious about his disappointment." He drew a deep breath and recited a refrain he'd obviously heard before. "My flying skills were lacking, my Quidditch play inferior, and my grades could never compare to those of a ... a Muggle-born."

"Nor could anyone else's," she protested.

"That's hardly an excuse," he said. "Not that it would have mattered in the end, since marrying Luna was the ultimate crime. Her blood will never be pure enough for him."

She had never heard him so bitter, but he spat the words out as if he couldn't bear their taste upon his tongue.

"I had no idea," she said. "I knew there had been problems, but Luna said you'd reconciled..."

"Yes, when the twins were born, he deigned to speak to us again," he said. "I would have gladly told him to sod off, but there was Mother to consider, and even Luna encouraged it, for the girls' sake."

"One would never suspect, to see you all together."

"I should think not. We would never allow an outsider to witness such familiarity." He leant in close to her, pale eyes hardening until they looked so much like his father's she clasped her hands to keep them from trembling. "You must never forget what it means to be a Malfoy," he said. "Power is our birthright, and it is our duty to command it, to wield it against those who would taint the purity of our heritage. There are no obstacles we cannot eliminate, no secrets we cannot uncover. We never fail. We never concede defeat. And no matter how bleak the circumstance, we carry on as ever before, with our heads held high." His smile was cold enough to raise the flesh on her arms. "It's what we do, my dear girl. We're Malfoys."

For a moment, she stared into Lucius's hate-filled eyes and forgot to breathe.

"And now I've frightened you," Draco said. He stepped back, and there was nothing but concern upon his face.

She shook herself. "No, I..."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I only meant to illustrate a point."

"Right." She rubbed her arms, unable to overcome the sudden chill.

"I had no choice but to memorise the doctrine," he said, frowning at her movements. "That doesn't mean I still subscribe to it."

"Of course not," she whispered.

He turned to sort through a pile of baby socks, and she frowned at his back. Growing up, she had known him to be spoilt and pompous, nothing more than the pampered child of wizarding aristocracy. While the assessment had been accurate, it hadn't necessarily been conclusive. Wealth and privilege certainly hadn't spared him from the scars of evil.

"Whatever it is he's planning now," he said, "I just hope something happens soon to ease Mother's fears."

Knowing the opposite was likely to occur, she touched his sleeve. "Draco, I ... I'm so sorry."

"Do not squander your sympathies on me, love," he said and patted her hand. "I no longer hold the slightest interest in fulfilling my father's expectations. My life improved once I stopped living it for him...perhaps the same will hold true for Mother some day."

She nodded, and they folded the remaining garments in silence.

When the bags and boxes were once again piled high, he turned to her and said, "I'm glad you stopped me from leaving today. It's been too long since we've chatted like this."

"I only wish I could do something to help." Rather than make matters worse. "What is Luna's opinion on all this?"

"I haven't mentioned it to Luna."

Her surprise was short-lived. "Yes, I can understand why you wouldn't. Best not to worry her, with the baby so close."

"Exactly."

The baby's impending arrival had weighed heavily on Hermione's thoughts, as well. Any legal action against Lucius would likely spark a maelstrom of media attention and gossip...hardly an ideal environment for the birth of a child. As much as she longed for resolution, for the threat to be gone, some part of her also hoped Draco and Luna would have time to enjoy their newborn in peace before the truth was revealed.

"Have you decided on a name for your son yet?" she asked.

"We have, indeed," he replied. "We shall call him Scorpius."

"I was being serious."

"So was I, unfortunately," he said. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy."

"That's quite ... impressive," she said, trying to backpedal. "And appropriate, of course, since the Scorpius constellation is best viewed in summer. Its appearance should coincide nicely with the baby's birth."

He laughed. "That's precisely why Luna chose it. Personally, I prefer 'Max,' but she insists double consonants aren't nearly as much fun as one would think."

"Hmm ... Max Malfoy. It lacks that certain sense of grandeur that Scorpius Hyperion possesses."

"I suppose." He scooped the bags from the table and pointed his wand at the boxes on the floor.

"Do you need a hand with that?" she asked.

"I can manage, thanks."

While Draco gathered his parcels, she carefully wrapped the length of black velvet back around her precious book. She was anxious to return to her living quarters and hoped Snape would be there so she could thank him in person.

"You haven't seen Severus lurking about, have you?" she asked.

"Not since lunch...oh, bugger!" A precariously balanced box teetered and then tumbled to the floor, spilling its contents.

She knelt beside him and began gathering the scattered clothes. His reply took a moment to register, but when the implication hit her, she froze.

"Severus was still at the Manor when I left, after lunch," he said. "I'm sure he's returned by now, though. His meetings with Father rarely last long."

"He ... he visits your father often?" Bile rose to the back of her throat. She swallowed it.

"Um ... I suppose so." His task required enough attention that he failed to notice her reaction. "To be honest, I seldom go to the Manor myself anymore. I really couldn't say how often Severus is there." He frowned and met her eyes.

"Right," she said quickly. "I'm sure they have a great deal to catch up on."

"Fourteen years' worth," he agreed, although his frown did not fade. "Is everything still all right between you two?"

"Never better." Until a few moments ago, it hadn't been a lie.

"I thought so," he said. "In all the years I've known Severus, I've never seen him act this way towards a woman."

"Oh." What the hell was she supposed to do with that now? "Okay."

"Relax, Granger," he said. "The worst is over. Stop analysing and start enjoying."

"Right," she said again and forced a smile.

They left the lab together, Draco levitating his tower of boxes before him while Hermione related every fact she'd ever read about the Scorpius constellation. By the time they reached the Entrance Hall, he seemed relieved to escape her company, so she departed for the dungeons, her mind in turmoil.

The torches lining the damp stone walls struggled to light fast enough as she hurried down the long staircase. She had never allowed her imagination free rein, yet it happily conjured scenes of Snape at Malfoy Manor, conspiring against her. She told herself such thoughts were mad...Snape would never betray her.

Then why had he been meeting with Lucius?

The question turned around and around in her mind, but no matter how she examined it, she could find but two possible explanations. One was terrifying, the other infuriating. Both meant untangling an intricate skein of lies, a task that would be simpler if she could confront Snape in person.

The Potions classroom and office were empty, and beyond the Vanishing door, their living quarters held nothing but more empty rooms. Perhaps he was still with Lucius, and Draco had been mistaken about the duration of their meetings. She thought of travelling to the Manor but rejected the idea the instant it entered her mind. Resigned to wait, she threw herself upon her chair and stared into the fire.

The flames seemed as restless as her thoughts. Questions echoed through her mind, jostling for attention, demanding answers.

He was a spy, she reminded herself. His skills had been unrivalled during the war. That kind of training...that way of life...wouldn't just vanish, even with a fourteen-year lie-in. But just whom was he spying on? Was he loyal to her or to Lucius? She wished she could dismiss the latter outright, but Snape hadn't exactly helped his cause by hiding his activities.

Then again, he'd allowed himself to be seen by Draco. He had to have known she might discover his whereabouts. It seemed a rather obvious mistake to have made, and he hadn't survived this long by making obvious mistakes. Why hide the truth in such a careless manner? Unless he planned to Obliviate her memory. She frowned into the fire. Perhaps she'd confronted him before, and he'd already Obliviated her memories. Perhaps several times ...

She curled her legs beneath her and shook her head. It was so easy to believe the worst when doubt screamed with such resolve, overwhelming the timid whispers of faith. Sitting in the darkened room, alone save for her traitorous thoughts, reason broke free of her meagre hold and uncertainty quickly blossomed into suspicion. Like an unruly child, it bounded through the playground of her mind, overturning stones and poking a stick at all the insecurities she had tried so hard to hide.

He doesn't care for you, sang a voice drenched in malice. He never has, and he never shall.

A foolish girl.

Their private endearment seemed almost sinister now. She glanced at the velvet-enrobed book still clenched in her hand and frowned.

"No," she said.

The lone word rang through the empty room, startling her, but chasing the other, cruel voice from her head. She refused to listen to the taunts, refused to believe Snape capable of such betrayal. Why would he have spent so much effort and care helping her students arrange the perfect gift if he was just using her? It didn't make sense. But trusting his intentions did little to allay her fears, given his lies. She wondered if she could ever understand...much less forgive...whatever convoluted logic had lead to such deceit.

Lost in thought, she listened to a soft, tapping sound for several moments before she realised its source. She hurried through the living quarters and Vanished the door to find her favourite house-elf waiting on the other side.

"Good evening, Pitty," she said.

"Evening, miss," she squeaked and held out a heavy scroll.

Hermione frowned. "I thought you were done with the Owlery?" She had visited Pitty twice since she'd been reassigned, and each time she'd been more delighted by the transformations she'd seen in the young elf.

"Oh, yes, miss. Pitty is most grateful to work in the library now." Her smile seemed larger than her face would allow. She pointed to the scroll and said, "But this just came for Professor Snape, and Pitty is faster than Nobey, so Pitty wanted to deliver it, miss."

Hermione assumed Nobey was the elf assigned to the Owlery following Pitty's departure, but her thoughts were more focused on the rolled pages in her hands. She stared at the exotic colour of the parchment, at Snape's name scrawled in bright red ink. Dread made the paper feel heavier than it was.

"Nobey said the owl that delivered it made an awful noise and had bright blue feathers," Pitty said. "Nobey thinks the owl was ill."

"I think it's more likely the owl was a parrot." She flipped the scroll over to reveal the return address: Veracruz, Mexico. Her dinner turned to lead in her stomach.

Of course, she thought.

Of course the response from Remy would arrive now. Her misgivings about Snape had never been greater, and she desperately needed time and attention to sort them all out. She had never embraced the idea of having her Arglist memories extracted and altered...and that had been before she'd learnt of Snape's visits to Malfoy Manor. She closed her eyes and wondered how she could ever go through with the original plan now.

Pitty shifted her weight from one long-toed foot to the other. "Is miss unwell?"

"Miss is getting there," she muttered. At Pitty's worried expression, she shook her head and tried to smile. "I am quite well, Pitty, thank you. I just wish I knew where Professor Snape was, so I could give this to him."

"Pitty can find him!" Her tiny body quivered as she clapped her hands together. "Pitty knows how to staff-trace!"

"Staff-trace?" She frowned. "I'm sorry, Pitty, but I don't know what that means."

Pitty bounced up and down. "All the house-elves at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have the power to trace magic, miss. If ever there is an emergency, Pitty can locate all the staff members for the headmistress in minutes."

It never failed to amaze Hermione when the ancient school revealed another secret. Too bad this one couldn't help her. "That's wonderful, Pitty," she said, "but I'm not the headmistress, and this isn't an emergency." Not yet, at least.

Pitty turned her head and cast a furtive glance into the empty Potions office. "Pitty wishes to help, miss," she whispered. "Pitty will see where Professor Snape is and tell miss." Before Hermione could voice her protest, she heard a soft pop and Pitty disappeared.

Standing beneath the empty doorframe, she spoke into the silence. "I'll just wait here then, shall I?"

She folded her arms and tapped her foot. For all the skills she had acquired, the ability to wait patiently still vexed her. Waiting and toast-making ... two talents she would never master. Perhaps they were linked, she thought, and tried not to jump when Pitty reappeared with another pop. It was so rare to see anyone Apparate inside Hogwarts she couldn't help but be startled by the sight.

"I'm sorry, miss, but Pitty does not know where Professor Snape is." Her ears drooped so low they brushed her shoulders.

"That's all right, Pitty," she said. "I appreciate you trying to find him for me."

"But Pitty did find Professor Snape," she protested.

"Oh, I thought you said..."

"Pitty cannot say where Professor Snape is, because Pitty does not know."

"You mean you didn't recognise the place where you found him?"

Pitty nodded.

"I see." The sinking feeling returned. Hermione described what rooms she could remember from Malfoy Manor, surprised when Pitty rejected them all. She tried some other likely locales: the taverns and shops of Hogsmeade, the businesses of Diagon Alley. All were given careful consideration, yet all were abandoned.

Hermione's frustration grew along with Pitty's misery, until she snapped her fingers and seized upon a sudden idea. "Can you take me there, Pitty?" she asked. "Can you use Side-Along Apparition during a staff-trace?"

"Of course, miss!" She leapt into the air and held out her tiny hand.

Although it had been her idea, Hermione hesitated. How many times had she chastised Harry for reckless behaviour? Yet here she stood, poised to break countless rules and rush headlong into the unknown. The alternative held even less appeal, though...she couldn't take another minute in this room, alone with her thoughts.

"Are you able to Apparate in such a way that no one will see us or hear us?" she asked Pitty. "I want to ensure our arrival goes unnoticed."

"Yes, miss." Pitty's nod was solemn.

"Right."

She dismissed the many arguments pushing into her mind, mumbled, "Off we go, then," and held her breath when Pitty's entire hand wrapped around her index finger. The spinning sensation stopped a second after it had begun, the smoothest Side-Along Apparition she'd ever experienced.

She opened her eyes and gazed down a long, dark corridor, to where a shaft of light rimmed a set of double doors. One door stood slightly ajar, allowing Snape's voice to float from the room. She listened for a moment and swallowed the panic before it choked her.

Pitty squeezed her finger, her tiny fist trembling.

"You should return to Hogwarts," she told the elf. "Quickly, Pitty, before anyone notices your absence."

"But, miss..."

"It's quite all right," she said. "I know exactly where I am now...I've been here before." I just never wished to return.

After a brief pause, the elf silently disappeared.

The sound of Snape's voice drew her closer. She crept through the shadows until she reached the end of the corridor, careful to let the double doors shield her presence. A gap by the hinges offered a narrow view of the room beyond the doors. Inching forward, she peered into the main laboratory of Arglist Industries and watched her world collapse.

Thanks to Little_Beloved and Karelia for invaluable beta services, and to Melenka for the alpha read.