The Long Way Down

It happened sooner than either of them expected. Hermione and Snape were still in bed when a giant, white owl swooped down just outside the bedroom window. It circled a couple of times before it pecked impatiently at the glass.

Snape opened the window, and the owl deposited a white envelope in his hand before it took to the sky again. Hermione rose from the bed and went to stand next to Snape as he broke the official looking seal and opened the missive.

The handwriting was ornate, and the silvery blue ink shimmered against the stark whiteness of the parchment. Hermione read over Snape's shoulder:

They are coming.

You can't save her – don't try.

Just as she finished reading the last words, the parchment disintegrated in Snape's hand, leaving only a wisp of light-blue smoke behind.

"What is it? What does it mean?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"It's a warning from Lucius. Get dressed!" Snape ordered. "You need to get to the kitchen and into the lab," Snape explained as they donned their robes in haste.

Hermione slipped her feet into her shoes, verified that the parchment she now knew to be a key was safely tucked inside her pocket and rushed out the door after Snape.

"Can't you keep them from entering the house?" she asked.

"Maybe, but the Ministry controls the Floo network. They could enter through the parlor using the fireplace there," Snape said as they rushed down the familiar hallways.

Hermione understood the urgency in Snape's words – the parlor stood between them and the kitchen, and they didn't seem to have enough time to follow an alternate route to the lab.

Just as they entered the parlor they were confronted by six figures in black robes. Hermione recognized Yaxley and Macnair in their black and silver robes; the other four wore plain, black, hooded robes and were strangers to her – most likely soldiers.

"Severus, you are to come with us by order of the Minister. Bring your hand-witch along," Yaxley said.

For an instant no one moved. Snape looked at her with black, narrowed eyes, his voice calm and soft as he said, "Hermione – Run!"

What happened next was too fast for Hermione to fully register. Snape's wand was a blur as it sliced through the air. There was a green flash of light, followed by two red ones in quick succession. A black figure crumpled to the floor. An agonized scream filled the room. Hermione dashed for the kitchen door but found her path blocked by a burly Death Eater. When he tried to grab her, she turned and ran in the opposite direction.

She was darting blindly through corridors. Behind her the air crackled with the energy of each hex that was discharged. Voices, angry and confused, reverberated through the house. She could hear footsteps gaining on her but she didn't dare turn to look – it would only serve to slow her down.

The house was changing rapidly now. Walls grew out of the floor where doors had been. Stairs vanished beneath her feet. Rooms narrowed into hallways, and windows turned to stone to shut out the light. Bolts of light lashed out from her pursuers' wands at the ensuing darkness. A green bolt zoomed past her. Hermione threw her body against a wall to avoid it and emerged safely into an adjacent room.

She listened for the shouted curses of the Death Eaters as they ran past on the other side. Only then did she stop to catch her breath.

She had to get to Snape's laboratory but even if she could make her way through the darkness, she could feel the room changing around her at a frantic pace that nearly matched the rhythm of her pounding heart – she would never be able to find a specific room in such chaos.

Hermione wasn't sure how long she stood there – each minute seemed to stretch into eternity as she listened and waited to be discovered at any moment. She thought of Fritzlee and wished the elf were still in the house. There was a slight movement to her right. Hermione almost screamed before a strong hand clasped over her mouth and yanked her back against a solid body.

"It's me; don't scream," Snape whispered into her ear.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and nodded in relief. The hand slipped from her face, and Hermione took in big gulps of air.

"I tried to get to the lab like you told me, but one of them blocked my path and then I was lost," she quickly explained.

"This way," Snape instructed as he took hold of her hand.

Hermione wondered how Snape could find his way in the complete darkness that enveloped them. Despite his guidance, she kept banging into walls and tripping over her own feet.

"I'm sorry; I can't see where I'm going," she whispered as Snape pulled her to her feet yet again.

The soft glow of a Lumos spell emanating from Snape's wand dispelled some of the shadows, and Hermione saw the door to the laboratory straight ahead. She had taken only two steps when the air suddenly crackled behind them; she turned around just in time to see a bolt of red light speeding towards them. Snape shoved her down, but not before the hex hit his right shoulder and sent his wand flying through the air. In the dim afterglow of the spell, Hermione saw Snape's body fall to the floor.

"Malfoy said to bring Snape in alive, you idiot!" an angry voice shouted.

"Yeah? Well then Malfoy should have come and got him himself! Anyway, it's Umbridge you should be worried about; that blood-traitor Malfoy is going to get his soon enough anyway!"

The voices were getting closer, and angry steps echoed from the walls of the corridor.

"Snape! Snape, are you alright?" Hermione whispered urgently.

Snape rolled to his side and stretched out his hand, his index finger pointing toward the laboratory. "It's straight ahead in front of you. Go!" he ordered.

But Hermione ignored his command. The glowing tip of Snape's wand was visible on the floor only a few feet in front of her, and Hermione quickly crawled towards it, staying low to avoid any more flying hexes. Suddenly a bright light filled the hallway and someone shouted, "Right there! I see them!"

Hermione didn't hesitate; she wrapped her fingers around the smooth wood of the wand and rolled onto her back. She brought the wand up and around, pointed it in the direction of the light source, twisted her wrist slightly in a half-flick and shouted, "Dissaeptum," just as a bolt of red light discharged from one of the Death Eaters' wands.

Eyes wide in amazement, Hermione watched as the bolt of light stopped in midair and violently bounced back toward its source, barely missing the two Death Eaters. The quick exchange had given Snape enough time to recover and he ran past Hermione, pulling her to her feet and claiming his wand from her hand in one fluid motion.

"It worked! Did you see that? The barrier worked!" Hermione babbled excitedly as Snape shoved her ahead of him towards the laboratory.

"I saw it, Miss Granger. Well done. But it won't hold for long, so hurry."

Behind them, Hermione could hear the angry shouts and curses of the Death Eaters as they worked to bring down her barrier. The door to the laboratory opened in front of her and Hermione dashed inside followed by Snape. Once the door was closed and secured, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and turned to assess Snape's injuries in the light of the laboratory's torches. It was worse than she had thought. The sleeve of his robes was scorched where the hex had hit him, and blood was slowly seeping through the fabric. There was also a small laceration to his left cheek, and Hermione noticed that he walked with a limp, wincing slightly every time he put weight on his right leg.

"You're hurt! Let me see," Hermione demanded, trying to examine Snape's shoulder, but the wizard brushed her hands aside.

"There's no time for that, Miss Granger. I have made certain that this room is practically impenetrable, but you can't hide in here forever. I must get you to safety."

Snape hastened to the fireplace and Hermione reluctantly followed, still eying his leg suspiciously. He tossed in a handful of Floo powder, and before Hermione could ask where they were going, she was dragged into the cool, green flames.

They exited the fireplace into a dim, ramshackle room that smelled strangely of seaweed, but they didn't stay long. Again and again Hermione was whisked away into the vortex of Side-Along Apparition. Each brief stop revealed a new unfamiliar scene, but there was never enough time to ask Snape where they were or where they were going before the scene changed again. Hermione understood that the purpose of so many consecutive Apparitions was to throw off any pursuers or anyone who might be tracking them, but she couldn't make her spinning head and protesting stomach understand that.

They came to a final stop at a rocky ledge on the side of a mountain. She leaned against the cold stone behind her and looked around. In every direction they were surrounded by snowcapped mountains and impossible precipices. Low clouds hovered just above their heads so close that Hermione could have reached out and touched them. It was a beautiful and hostile landscape, with no shelter in sight. The air was frigid, and Hermione wrapped her arms around her torso to stave off the cold.

"Where are we?" she finally asked Snape.

"The Carpathian Mountains just north of Romania," Snape answered grimly. "We'll have to walk from here."

Hermione glanced in his direction and noticed his gritted teeth and the pallor of his skin. He was injured, how badly she didn't know, and it was obvious that the exertion of Apparating both of them over such a long distance had taken its toll on him.

"Maybe we should rest for a bit," she suggested tentatively.

Snape shook his head. "There isn't much daylight left and the temperature will drop quickly after sunset. Any charm we can use for warmth will be impotent against such temperatures."

Hermione nodded and started walking in the direction that Snape indicated. It was a steep descent. For hours they walked ever downward, sometimes side-by-side, single-file when the ledge grew so narrow that it barely allowed room for one body. The surrounding mountains protected them from most of the wind, but the temperature was still cold and their casual clothes ill-suited. Hermione was hungry, tired, cold and scared.

"Can we rest only for a moment?" she asked when they came to a wide plateau.

Snape leaned his injured shoulder against the side of the mountain, and his eyes scanned their surroundings. "It's not much farther; I could cast a Levicorpus if you wish," he offered.

Hermione shook her head adamantly. He was already weakened by his injuries, and the idea of being immobilized and levitated didn't appeal to her anyway.

They continued thus, leaving the mountainous terrain behind and descending into a subterranean cave. There was a trickle of water that indicated a river nearby, and jagged stalactites hung from the roof of the cave like giant teeth, but Hermione couldn't see any farther than the circle of dim light produced by Snape's wand.

Snape paused suddenly, and Hermione went to stand next to him. He was murmuring some words, a spell Hermione was sure.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm opening a temporary rift in the wards, big enough for us to pass."

Hermione looked around. "Wards? There are wards here?"

She couldn't imagine what the wards would be guarding down here, or who would come looking. As far as she could tell, they were in a dank, deserted cave in the middle of nowhere.

"Of course there are wards! I said I was taking you to safety, and the place wouldn't be safe it if weren't warded!" Snape snapped.

Hermione shrugged, too tired to argue with Snape's paranoid logic.

They continued on, and a few meters ahead the mouth of the cave opened into a snowy valley filled with tall pine trees. Against the setting sun in the distance, wisps of smoke rose to the sky from what had to be dozens of chimneys. It looked like a village – one of considerable size.

"Is that a town?" she asked softly, hardly daring to hope.

"Yes it is, Miss Granger – the town of New Hope, last stronghold of the resistance."

Her exhaustion forgotten, Hermione wanted to run. She wanted to jump up and down, clap her hands, and squeal her delight like a child. She wanted to embrace Snape, and kiss him and thank him. She wanted to hoot and holler and do cartwheels. Only Snape's somber expression stopped her.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

"Miss Granger," he began, his voice soft, his eyes lowered. "I want you to know that whatever they tell you, I never meant to cause you any harm."

"I don't understand. You saved my life; you brought me here; you've been working to overthrow Voldemort all this time; why would anyone think you meant to harm me?" she said.

Snape sighed deeply and straightened himself. "It's not that simple, Miss Granger."

Hermione wasn't sure how to feel about Snape's declaration, but nothing could put a damper on her exhilaration. It was all she had dreamt about for the past seven years, more than she had hoped.

A dot of light moving through the trees caught Hermione's eye. The dot grew larger as it got nearer until it revealed the figure of a young boy about ten years old with a riotous mass of red curls. He wore a fur cloak and held a lit wand in his small hand.

"Snape!" the young boy called out as he ran towards them. "I didn't know you were coming today!"

The boy came to a halt in front of them, staring wide-eyed at Hermione. "Who you got here, Snape?" the boy asked.

"This, Gavril, is Miss Granger. Miss Granger, meet Gavril; he lives in the village."

"Nice to meet you, Gavril," Hermione said with a wide smile.

Snape took a step and the boy quickly turned his attention away from her.

"You're hurt! Should I get help? Was it Death Eaters? Where is your broom? Did the fighting start already?"

If Snape was annoyed by the boy's rapid-fire questioning and agitated movements, he didn't show it.

"Yes, I am injured, but there is no need for you to seek assistance; I can walk. My injuries were caused by Death Eaters. My home was attacked, and I didn't have the opportunity to retrieve my broom, but the fighting hasn't officially begun," Snape responded calmly.

Ignoring Snape's protests, the boy wrapped his arm around Snape's waist and began to guide him towards the town. Hermione walked quietly next to them, impatient with their slow progress. She noticed that they took a roundabout route, avoiding the center of the village and approaching a small cottage that sat to the outskirts. Gavril released Snape and ran ahead, bursting into the house without bothering to knock on the door. Hermione concluded this must be the boy's home.

Hermione had barely set foot inside the house when she found herself whisked into a tight embrace.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you're here."

Hermione pulled back and stared up into the face of Remus Lupin. "Professor Lupin!" she exclaimed before she threw her arms around him to return the hug.

Lupin released her awkwardly. "I haven't been a professor for a long time, and then only for one year. Please call me Remus."

Gavril came back into the room, dragging a small woman with short, sandy hair and small, impish features behind him.

"See, see? I told you!" he babbled excitedly.

"I see," the woman said softly, standing back from the group.

"They walked all the way down!" the boy announced, his voice high with excitement.

"You must be cold and tired," the woman observed from her place close to the farthest wall.

"Hermione, this is Veera, and I guess you've already met her son, Gavril. Veera, this is Hermione; I've spoken to you about her," Remus said with a gentle smile that spoke of a deep affection for the quiet woman.

The woman smiled shyly and nodded her head in greeting. Her slanted eyes turned to Snape who until now had held back near the doorway, leaning weakly against the doorframe.

"Come into the kitchen; I will tend to your injuries," Veera said to Snape.

To Hermione's surprise, Snape allowed the woman to assist him into the kitchen without protest.

"Veera is a bit wary of strangers, but I have no doubt she will warm up to you in no time," Remus explained to Hermione as they followed the other two into the kitchen where Gavril was already perched atop a stool, placing a teakettle on the old stove.

Hermione took a seat at the table, her thoughts reeling with unanswered questions and possibilities. She chanced a glance at Snape, who sat across from her, his features unreadable as he suffered the small woman to examine his shoulder.

"This is bad, Remus. I can fix some of it, but I think he should go to the clinic," Veera said.

"That shall not be necessary. Do what you can, Veera, and I shall take care of the rest," Snape declared through gritted teeth as the woman ripped open the sleeve of his robes.

Hermione noticed that Snape had not said a word to Remus since they had arrived.

"His leg also requires attention," Hermione pointed out.

Veera looked at Remus. "Could they...?"

Remus nodded before the woman finished the question. "Of course. Take him to our bedroom. Hermione, you can share Gavril's room, and Veera and I will camp out in the living room for tonight. We'll make other arrangements in the morning."

Hermione glanced at the young boy who seemed thrilled to have such an interesting guest sharing his sleeping quarters. Snape, on the other hand, looked as if he was about to protest.

"There's no need to inconvenience Gavril. Snape and I can share a room."

Remus frowned but didn't argue, and Snape allowed Veera to guide him to the bedroom after a reassuring nod from Hermione.

"How long has this town been here?" she asked Remus after the other two had left the kitchen.

Remus took a seat next to her, and Gavril busied himself pouring tea and heating up a kettle of some delicious smelling soup.

"Since the end of the war." Remus answered. "Charlie Weaseley knew of this place long before and had always thought that with the proper wards and charms it would make a perfect hideout. When it became obvious that the war was lost, a small group fled here. Many more have joined us over the years."

Seven years, Hermione thought. For seven years there had been a safe place in the wizarding world, and yet no one had bothered to look for her. Remus must have guessed her thoughts.

"It's not that simple, Hermione. Hand-witches have no identity, no names; we had to rely on sightings and word of mouth to track your whereabouts, and it wasn't until recently that we found a spell that would counter the hex put on hand-witches by the Ministry to track them and keep them from running away. Before that, to try to rescue a hand-witch would have meant certain discovery and the death of the witch."

It made sense. Hermione still remembered the agonizing pain of the spell slicing through the soles of her feet like a hot knife when she had tried to escape, and the quickness with which she was found made her suspect that the spell included some kind of tracking charm.

A bowl of soup was placed in front of Hermione, and she dug in unabashedly.

"I'm sorry, I'm starved," Hermione offered when she noticed Remus watching her with an amused smile.

"Veera is a good cook," Remus said.

Hermione nodded her agreement. "What about Snape? He must be hungry too."

"I got it!" Gavril announced, balancing a tray as he left the kitchen.

"Is Gavril your son?" Hermione asked. She didn't think so; the boy appeared too old to have been born after the end of the war.

Remus confirmed her suspicions. "Not biologically; he is Veera's son. She lost her husband a while ago."

Hermione only nodded and took another bite of the soup, not wanting to intrude into the affairs of her hosts, but it had not escaped her attention that Remus and Veera shared a bedroom.

She finished her meal quickly, anxious to find out more about Snape's condition.

Remus placed a hand on her shoulder just as she was about to leave the table.

"I really am glad you're here. I only wish that it could have happened sooner – as things were, all we could do was have Snape watch over you and trust that he would keep you safe," Remus said, a hint of sadness creeping into his warm smile.

"He did," Hermione assured him, but Remus didn't release her shoulder.

"Hermione, there are people here who care deeply about you. You can come to any of us for help if you need it, you should know that. Veera and I would be happy to have you stay with us."

Hermione considered Remus' words for a moment. "Thank you. After all I've been through, it means a lot to know that I'm not alone, but there's really no need for you to be concerned – I'm fine now."

Remus nodded, the lines of concern around his eyes softening slightly.

"I just wanted you to know," he said. "They are going to be so happy to see you," he added, his eyes looking strangely bright.

"Who is?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Harry and Ginny of course!" Remus explained.

Something about her expression must have given away her shock.

Remus' look of concern returned. "He didn't tell you that?"

Hermione shook her head, thinking that what she'd heard must be some kind of misunderstanding.

"That's not possible. Harry is dead," she said.

The werewolf looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Perhaps Snape should explain it to you."

Hermione didn't waste any time. "Where is he?" she asked.

"Down the corridor to your right, two doors down."

Veera and her son were leaving the bedroom when Hermione reached the door.

"He has eaten. I tended his wounds the best I could and gave him something for the pain. He refused anything to help him sleep," Veera informed Hermione just outside the bedroom.

Hermione noticed that the woman was avoiding her eyes, looking instead to the tray she held in her hands as she spoke.

"Thank you Veera, and you, Gavril."

The boy beamed and puffed his chest out proudly. "You're welcome!"

Veera only nodded as she walked away, followed by her son.

Inside the bedroom the lights were dim, but Hermione could clearly distinguish the outline of Snape sitting up on the bed, his head resting against the headboard.

"How do you feel?" she asked as she approached the bed.

"I shall recover," Snape answered.

Hermione wondered if the man ever admitted to any pain or discomfort.

The exertions of the day were quickly catching up with her and she felt exhausted, but Snape owed her some answers before she could fall asleep.

"Remus told me that Harry is alive," she said without preamble as she disposed of her robes and climbed into the bed.

Snape nodded.

"But that's impossible; I saw him die."

Everyone including prisoners had been forced to stand outside the Ministry in the cold rain and watch her two friends, their bodies battered, torn and bleeding, their arms stretched high above their heads, their broken torsos heaving with each laborious breath as they hung from The Wall of Traitors.

Harry's death had been mercifully quick in comparison to Ron's. Voldemort had climbed onto a scaffold high above the crowd and with a flourish of his wand had cast the Avada Kedavra that had put an end to Harry's life: it had taken Ron hours to die as he lingered suspended from the wall next to the lifeless body of his friend.

"You saw what everyone else saw. Letting the Dark Lord believe he had triumphed was the only way to mitigate the slaughter and ensure that Potter would still be alive to fight when the odds were better," Snape explained.

"How?" she wanted to know.

Snape pushed himself higher on the bed and winced with the effort. "Harry was badly injured and captured during the ambush. He wasn't breathing when they found him. But we managed to break him out and replace him with a decoy before he was tortured and hung on the wall."

Snape's explanation didn't make her feel any better. "Who was the decoy?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer, but needing to know the identity of the anonymous hero anyway.

"Neville Longbottom."

Hermione gasped. "Neville! You handed Neville over to Voldemort to be tortured and killed?"

"No! Neville volunteered. I was prepared to do it myself, so was Lupin and some of the others. But the potion that we used..." Snape sighed, as if he had told the story so many times that he had grown weary of it. "I designed the potion myself, in case my cover was blown and I needed a long-term disguise to escape. The effects of Polyjuice potion were too short-term, and charms too unstable and easily detected, so I created a potion that combined the long-term effects of a charm with the stability of Polyjuice. The trouble was that the potion had its own set of limitations. Rearranging soft tissues and dead proteins like hair is one thing, but reconfiguring bones and getting them to hold their shape is a nasty business. For the disguise to be convincing, we needed someone with a height and build comparable to Potter's. The match didn't have to be exact, but close enough that someone who knew Potter wouldn't be suspicious. At the time, Neville was the closest match we had."

"Poor Neville," Hermione sobbed.

"The boy couldn't brew the simplest potion if his life depended on it, but he was brave," Snape admitted somberly.

"But wouldn't Voldemort know when he looked into his mind?"

Snape's eyes shifted to an indefinite spot on the wall. "Not if his mind had been so damaged during interrogation that it was impossible to extract any further information. It happens sometimes."

Hermione was going to be ill.

"You?" she asked softly.

Snape nodded. "I was entrusted with his interrogation while the Dark Lord planned his seize of the Ministry. The only stipulation was that the boy should still be alive when I finished with him. It was an odd sort of mercy; I don't think Longbottom was aware of much of what happened after that."

Despite the warmth of the room, Hermione felt a chill course through her body. It would take tremendous commitment or inconceivable callousness to do what Snape had done – maybe a combination of both.

"Get some sleep; there'll be plenty of time to talk tomorrow," Snape said suddenly. "If I know Lupin, he's calling a town meeting on account of your arrival even as we speak."

Hermione lay down and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the little cottage and the softness of the bed, but sleep was slow to come – her thoughts kept drifting to the possibility that she would soon see Harry alive and well, and to the certainty that she would never see Neville Longbottom again.