Chapter Four

~ Chapter Four ~

Hermione woke with a sense of well-being. She wondered if the balm had some unadvertised properties or if it was something else. She thought she'd dreamed of Professor Snape.

Her charmed memo pad was blinking on her nightstand. She'd awoken before its verbal alarm had activated. She knew what it said, but read it anyway: antidote stage two, 6:45a.m. Dressed in denims and a jumper, she dashed down to the dungeon to find Narcissa waiting for her beside the cauldron.

She was greeted with a chipper, "Good morning," from a made-up face and perfect hair, despite the early hour.

"Good morning. What still needs to be done?"

"I thought I'd go ahead and perform this stage, and you could prepare the ingredients for this afternoon. You will be available at two forty-five to complete the potion, correct?"

"Yes, I should be back in plenty of time."

A charmed hourglass alerted them that they had five minutes. Hermione went to get the final ingredients from the store cupboard.

When they were done, Narcissa said, "Let's sit for a few moments before you go," and led her into the study. Hermione felt self-conscious about the idea that the men might still be sleeping but saw that they were enjoying their paper with breakfast. She supposed it shouldn't surprise her that they could get the Prophet a full half hour before the rest of the castle.

Sitting, Narcissa asked, "Did the balm work?"

"Oh, yes, I slept very well."

"Good. I'll bottle up your batch when it's complete. The healing potion will take about three hours of intense brewing. I thought we'd begin around seven tonight."

"I'm so glad we'll be done soon so Professor Snape can get on with healing."

"We all do. I am quite anxious to be home again. Go on in and tell him about your plans for today."

Hermione felt an odd sense of déjà vu when she saw him in his pajamas but shook it off and took his hand. She felt an illicit thrill from calling him by his first name but thought he'd rather like it. She told him about the funeral she'd be attending and about the potions they were planning to brew later that day. She mentioned Narcissa's ideas of synergy and was just working up the nerve to mention the dream when Narcissa knocked on the doorpost and reminded her that she would soon be late for breakfast.

"What are you wearing today?" Narcissa inquired.

"I'm going to transfigure shoes and stockings from ones I have, and Madam Malkin is sending dress robes."

"What time are you leaving?"

"Ron's coming to fetch me at nine fifteen."

"Why don't you come down around eight forty-five and I'll do your hair and make-up?"

"You really don't have to."

"Nonsense. The press will be there. It's time for them to see you as more than the brains and hair." At Hermione's bewildered expression, Narcissa continued. "This is your moment. How the world sees you for the next couple of weeks will set the tone for years."

Hermione couldn't shake the feeling she was being set up, and Narcissa must have seen it in her face. "The key to living with Slytherins is to realize that you are always being manipulated. Just make sure it's in your favor."

Somehow, that didn't make Hermione feel any better.

She found the hall already full of people when she arrived for breakfast. The table in front of Professor McGonagall was crowded with owl post.

"You weren't here, so the owls left your package with me."

Sure enough, there was a large box with her name on it. "Must be from Madam Malkin. Mrs. Weasley sent her my measurements."

"Very good. I was also hoping you could deliver something for me. If you don't have time, I can have an elf do it."

"What is it, for whom?"

"These arrived in my care for Mrs. Malfoy this morning. I assume they are the R.S.V.P.s for the meeting she's having this afternoon."

Resisting the urge to ask about the meeting, she agreed. She ate little of her eggs and toast, and when she rose from the table, she considered whether she should carry her box up first or deliver the letters. Deciding she'd been wand-shy for long enough, she levitated the box and carried the letters. She did decide to leave the box in the classroom, figuring that eight forty-five would be soon enough to hear Narcissa's opinion of her new robes.

Opening the door just a bit, she called out, "It's Hermione," figuring it was better manners than just walking in unannounced.

She didn't see anyone, but heard Narcissa's voice from the bedroom answer, "In here."

Narcissa had apparently been reading from the Prophet. Professor Snape was dressed in what looked like a grey nightshirt.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to give these to you." She handed the envelopes to Narcissa, who quickly flipped through them. "Where are the men?"

"An Auror came by to escort them to the manor so they could survey the damage."

"Oh, I guess that's good."

"It's good that the Ministry is allowing house arrest in most cases for now. The last time, they just locked up all of the suspected Death Eaters for weeks until they could be tried or simply shipped off. But the Ministry is going to have difficulty distinguishing who was really working with the Dark Lord this time and who was only trying to keep their jobs."

"Forgive me if--I shouldn't ask."

"Out with it. You don't have much time to get ready."

"I was just wondering about whoever's coming to your meeting this afternoon."

"The Ministry has graciously allowed a short-term Floo connection to be made between certain homes and Hogwarts so I can host a tea this afternoon. Widows and wives. We have to see to our own funeral details and so forth. Professor McGonagall has been very kind to us."

"The Ministry doesn't suspect that you are going to try something, opening all of those Floo connections at once?"

"There will be an Auror guarding the Floo."

"It's a good thing you don't have ill intentions, or one Auror wouldn't have a chance."

Narcissa laughed, then shooed Hermione off to get ready.

Retrieving the box, Hermione levitated it up several flights of stairs, thinking that it was starting to feel heavier, thinking that an elf could have done it in a moment, and thinking that it really was starting to feel more difficult to keep the box aloft. She finally resorted to carrying the box the final flight.

Arriving in her room, she dug her shoes, stockings, and dress out of her beaded bag. The dress, she hung in the closet, the stockings took the charm coloring them black very easily, but the shoes were another story. They had been magically dyed and apparently resisted color-changing charms as a measure against a witch saving money on shoes. Of the options presented to her, she decided to transfigure her trainers into black pumps. They looked slightly worn, but she hoped very much that Rita Skeeter wouldn't personally be there to run a fashion report.

Opening the box, she saw the reason it was so heavy. There wasn't just one black robe in there. In addition to two black dresses--one knee-length and one tea-length--there was a black robe with velvet accents and a black cloak with a hood. Hermione was baffled by it all, but reasoned that Narcissa was correct in this. People would be taking pictures of her at every public event she attended, and Madam Malkin was apparently determined that the heroes would do their mourning in style.

Hermione thought Fred wouldn't have liked so much black and neither would Tonks. She made herself smile just a little at the thought of wearing a pink armband in Tonks' honor, but then she felt a few tears prick her eyes. Determined, she wiped the tears away. There would be time for that once she was dressed.

Having accomplished that, she carried the cloak down to Snape's study, where Narcissa approved of the whole outfit except for the shoes. "Still having trouble with the wand?"

"Yes, and I couldn't get my other shoes to take the dying spell."

"Accio Hermione's dress shoes! We'll get started on your hair."

Twenty minutes later, her hair was done, tear-proof make-up applied, and her shoes had bent to Narcissa's will. "Now, go show yourself to Severus, and we'll go to the entry hall to meet with your Mr. Weasley."

"But he can't see me."

"Then describe your outfit, but in under two minutes so you won't have to rush."

Hermione felt a little silly describing her clothes to Snape, so she did one better and ran his hand over the material of her sleeve so he could feel it. "After all, if you can hear me and feel my hand, you can feel the fabric, too. It really is lovely fabric. I'm just glad I won't be wearing it to your funeral. We're to finish your potions today, and by tomorrow evening, you should have the strength to scowl and criticize to your heart's desire." Impulsively, she lifted his cool hand to her cheek. "See you soon."

Narcissa and Hermione didn't have to wait long for Ron to arrive in his new black dress robes. Hermione kept her hug of greeting short, self-conscious at the thought that Narcissa was analyzing their auras. But as the two walked the grounds hand-in-hand for the five minutes until the Portkey would take them away, Hermione forgot all about her observer.

Sitting between Ron and Angelina at the funeral, she finally cried, succumbing to the overwhelming sense of loss. Ron put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to himself as she flooded his robes with tears. She was barely aware it was Harry who pressed a handkerchief into her hand, and she didn't hear most of the eulogies.

She took deep breaths as George rose to speak of his twin brother, and by the time he was done, there wasn't a dry eye because he had reduced the whole crowd to tears of laughter. Fred Weasley's final send-off was the full line of Weasley fireworks, brilliant even in the sunlight.

In honor of Fred, the meal was interrupted by pranks from each of the six remaining siblings, even Percy, whose prank backfired, covering him in punch to the amusement of all in attendance.

It was nearly two o'clock when Hermione returned to the castle. Changing into a dark blue robe over her denims, she went to the dungeon. After verifying that the ingredients were ready, she began to look for a way to pass the next five minutes. A book on the desk caught her eye.

It looked as though Narcissa had been reading it and just neglected to return it. It was of the binding style particular to academic journals and theses, and the title was printed neatly on the front: Synergy and Potions by Severus Snape. Hermione knew that the book hadn't been left by accident. Narcissa was trying to tell her something, and she was using Snape's master's dissertation to do it.

She was still examining the outline when the charmed hourglass chimed. Two ingredients had to be added and the potion stirred seven times clockwise. The result was textbook perfect, and Hermione reset the hourglass for four more hours. Only two hundred forty minutes remained before the potion would be complete.

Hermione contemplated taking the book back to her room but decided that would be too much like stealing. Instead, she let herself into the empty study. The bedroom was likewise uninhabited except for the room's rightful occupant. She thought it was about time she took a turn keeping vigil but thought Snape wouldn't enjoy being read to from his own work. Instead, she pulled the chair even closer, took his hand, and started telling him about her day--not that much had happened since she'd been there last. She was excited for the brewing she was going to do that night, but she couldn't stay away from the book for long.

Curling herself up in the chair, she opened the book to the very first page. Besides the title and author, it gave the name of the master that Snape had worked for and two other acknowledgements: Narcissa Malfoy and the Flamels.

Now Hermione was really intrigued. Reading as fast as she could, she skimmed the introduction and outline again, looking for what she really wanted to see: a real example of synergy producing extraordinary results.

She'd expected the anecdotal chapter on Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel to read as dry science like the rest of the book, but it was quite an interesting and romantic tale. Both were potioneers, though Nicholas was more interested in the alchemic aspects of the study. After five years of marriage, Perenelle was still barren. Nicholas was at a loss for how to console his wife until one day, he whispered to her that since they could not have any children to carry on the Flamel name, they would have to find a way to live forever.

In the process of experimentation to produce the Philosopher's Stone, they claimed that they felt their magical energies increasing when they cast or brewed together. The final production of the stone was a complete joint effort, every step performed in concert. They believed that the stone could only be produced this way because there was no use in living forever unless you had a soul mate to share forever with.

Hermione was moved to tears, and she was still teary-eyed when Narcissa entered the room.

"You would have loved to meet them. Even after helping conduct the initial interview and helping extensively with the editing process, that part makes me teary every time, too."

"Thank you for leaving this out for me, even if it was a set-up."

"Not very subtle of me? Don't tell Lucius. I see the potion changed color."

"Yes, it looks to be right on schedule."

"Good." Narcissa took Snape's hand and directed her next comment to him. "We have a fellow potioneer here, Severus. Your life is in capable hands."

Hermione blushed and began to uncurl herself from the chair. "I'd like to take this back to my room."

"You intend to take a book from the Headmaster's personal library without his knowledge?"

Hermione stood and addressed the Headmaster in question. "Professor Snape, I wish to borrow your dissertation for a brief period of study." Then she turned to Narcissa. "Now he knows."

"Are you sure?"

"He can hear us."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why are you suddenly so certain?"

"I think he was in my dream last night and told me."

"You don't remember?"

"No, it was pretty hazy when I woke up."

"Hmmm. All the same, you have had an emotional day, and I think you know what Madam Pomfrey would recommend in preparation for tonight's brewing."

"Yes. Hydration and rest."

"Absolutely. Why don't you go have a nap, then come down and have supper with us."

"Thank you. I think I will. Good afternoon, Professor."

Hermione didn't realize how tired she was until her own voice woke her.

"Time to get ready for dinner with the Malfoys. Time to get ready for dinner with the Malfoys. Time to--"

"Got it," she mumbled.

As she dressed, she thought that the next time she saw Molly, she needed to find out where her school trunk had ended up. She had packed enough practical clothes, but nothing that seemed appropriate for dinner with the Malfoys. She eventually transfigured a pair of denims into some nice slacks and decided that it didn't really matter because it was all under robes anyway.

Dinner turned out to be pleasant after all, and by dessert, she was on first names with all three Malfoys. After months of monotonous conversations in a tent, she was beginning to remember what civilized company was like, and she relished the discussion and the food.

As was now customary before beginning any brewing, she went to Snape's side, took his hand, and told him what she'd be doing. Then, peeking over her shoulder to be sure she was alone, she cast a Muffliato and whispered, "I think I dreamed of you this afternoon. I think we were brewing together. Maybe it was because I'd been reading about the Flamels, but I woke up thinking we'd just brewed the potion together. Was that your last minute tutorial? Wish us luck, Severus."

They had decided that Hermione would measure out the ingredients and add them, and Narcissa would do the stirring. It was definitely easier not to have to count the series of clockwise and counterclockwise motions while adding a combination of three ingredients, as they did about forty-five minutes into the process. When the potion was complete, Hermione slumped into the chair at the front of the classroom.

She was startled by Narcissa's hand gently waking her. She opened her eyes, but didn't move to sit up. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was going to help with the bottling."

"That's okay. We got four perfect doses, but I'm more concerned about you. Your aura's looking a little thin."

"Does that happen when someone gets tired or uses a lot of energy?"

"Not to this extent. I think Poppy should come see you."

"No, I'm fine. I'll just--" Hermione cried out when she tried to move, and Narcissa gently pressed her back into the chair.

"You're not going anywhere until I've applied the balm. I still have it down here. Don't move."

Hermione didn't dare disobey. She thought the ache would be better, but this was worse than it had been since that first night. She didn't have the energy to even help Narcissa straighten her out to apply the balm to her spine. She couldn't give voice to objections that wished to make themselves known when Lucius carried her into the study. She drifted in and out of consciousness while Poppy and Narcissa discussed energy and auras and after-effects of Unforgivables. She obediently opened her mouth for a potion that cleared her head a little.

"Don't try to sit up yet."

"I feel better, Madam Pomfrey."

"You may feel better, but you are not better yet. You need to sleep to give the potion the best chance to work."

"I don't think I can walk up all of those stairs."

"You won't be walking," Narcissa explained. "You're spending the night in the Slytherin dorm tonight."

"What about Pansy's things?"

"We'll talk about that tomorrow. Until then, that's the easiest place for you to go. Lucius will carry you, and Poppy will check on you in the morning."

Hermione closed her eyes as a pair of warm, strong arms lifted her from the sofa. She sensed a flurry of activity, and it sounded as though McGonagall had joined them. Hermione was touched at the care she was receiving. McGonagall had attended three funerals that day, and it was certainly getting late. But Hermione could only breathe a soft, "Thank you," before succumbing to sleep.

In her dream, she was wandering, lost in the dungeon. She rubbed her arms to keep them warm whilst she searched. Finally, she saw him coming toward her from the other end of a long hall, and she picked up her pace.

"What took you so long?" she asked, shivering in the dim torchlight.

"I didn't want to leave until I'd heard the whole story from Narcissa. They are very worried about you."

"We finished the potion."

"Yes, I know that, too. Come." A door appeared in the wall, and they stepped through to find his study as it had been before the Malfoys had redecorated. This room was a little warmer, but even standing by the fireplace, she shivered.

"Do I ever wish I was the one in pajamas now."

"Your dress is very lovely."

"This dress," she looked down to see a velvet sheath, "is sleeveless."

He moved closer until she could almost feel his heat. "Then perhaps you need to be warmed up." He enveloped her in his cloak, stroking her back and arms until she relaxed against his chest.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"It was my pleasure. I've been wanting to touch it since you let me feel the fabric this morning."

"I was wondering if you would be able to feel it--which was the sleeve of my robe, for your information, not my leg or whatever you thought you were touching."

"Yes, I could feel it. I could even smell you, although you must be using the secret hair serum, because you smell vaguely like narcissus."

"You mean Narcissa's signature scent is narcissus?"

"It smells good on you, too."

"Thank you. We finished the potion."

"You've already said that. Fishing for complements?"

"I think it's just the dream-state. It's hard for me to keep up with the conversation. But I don't think you acknowledged it the first time."

"For the record then, I acknowledge that you have completed the healing potion. Perfectly, as Narcissa tells me."

"I'm glad it's done. Now we can safely wake you up."

He maneuvered her to a large chair and set her in his lap. "I'm going to miss meeting you like this."

"Why do we have to stop when you wake up?"

"Because the situation will be entirely different. Whilst I am in this state, I need someone to anchor myself to, and you are that anchor. Soon I won't need you anymore."

"So that's it? You don't need me so, 'Goodbye, Miss Granger'?"

"It would seem odd if I suddenly started calling you Hermione."

"It isn't odd here."

"Don't you have a boyfriend?"

The question made her pause. "Narcissa thinks you and I would be good with each other. She hasn't said it, but--"

"Narcissa thinks you would be good for me. Don't count on her having your best interests at heart."

"By admitting that, you've shown that you do."

"Or I'm further manipulating your mind. Don't underestimate me."

"I don't think I am. I think Narcissa's intention of my reading your book was to see the potential for us."

"That's wishful thinking."

"Well, she didn't say anything about Ron's and my auras, and I think she would have if it had shown something good."

"You've not known her long enough to count on her altruistic appearances."

"You are very cynical."

"No, I'm alive, and I wouldn't be if I depended on others to simply consider my welfare."

"You are also ungrateful." Hermione attempted to remove herself from his lap, but he kept her pinned to himself until she stopped fidgeting.

"No, Hermione. I am very grateful for what has been done for me and on my behalf--for what you have done."

"Then why--"

"Because my point still stands. Would you have thought to rescue me without Draco? Would Draco have done so without my having secured his father's vow?"

Hermione could not answer truthfully without feeling horrible because he was right. She snuggled against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Hermione, but you shouldn't be. I've never given you any reason for you to have done as much as you have." He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and once she'd turned her face to meet his, he kissed her mouth.

She hadn't many kisses to compare it to, but it seemed the most perfect kiss: tender, patient, coaxing her mouth open but never demanding.

When he gently pulled away, the smile on his face was even more surprising than the kiss had been.

"Severus?"

"Perhaps we can remain on a first-name basis. Now, you rest. I'll keep the nightmares away."

A/N: I haven't read it in a while, but the inspiration for the Flamels having to have a special bond to produce the Philosopher's Stone came from "The Amber Effect"

http://ashwinder.sycophanthex.com/viewstory.php?sid=7597

Which is actually a sequel to "The Amber Solution" also found at Ashwinder.

Special thanks to Lauren for shining this chapter up to its current sparkle and to SouthernWitch for reminding me about comma rules that I really should know.