Displacement

A/N: My thanks, as always, to the wisdom of Ana and Machshefa; this is the other half of the problem they solved for me. Thanks also to the bevy of beautiful alpha- and beta-readers whom I also have the honor of calling friends: Ana, Machshefa, Lady Karelia, Melenka, Indigofeathers, and Annie Talbot, in honor of whose birthday this particular chapter is dedicated and posted.

Summary: Almost nothing ends up where it started.

14: Displacement

"Do try not to let your sensibilities get in the way of your curiosity, my dear. The price of wisdom is often lower if you don't hang on to things too tightly."

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The rushing of the Floo woke Mimi, who'd been napping on the window ledge. She stretched her forelegs out and yawned, then hopped to the floor with a happy "Meee!" and trotted over to Hermione, who stepped out of the fireplace brushing the soot off her robes.

"Hello, there, love." Hermione eased her workbag off her shoulder and squatted to pat the kitten.

Severus eyed her clinically. She presented a far different picture than she had that morning, and he automatically catalogued the differences. Her hair a tangled web of curls – wind? No; it was far worse on one side – she had doubtless been yanking on it.

Filing that observation for later consideration, should it warrant it, he looked more closely at her face, which was slightly flushed.

The flush didn't match something in her eyes.

He announced his continued existence with a quiet, "Good evening, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Professor."

"An odd greeting."

"Appropriate, though." Hermione straightened and looked toward him.

The force of her gaze forestalled whatever rejoinder he might have made.

Severus was quite suddenly thirsty.

Tosh. He didn't get thirsty.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione glanced around her living room.

"I've not moved."

"I'm going to change out of my work things, and then I think a conversation is in order. A real one. Not like that awkward nonsense this morning."

Severus nodded. "Indeed."

She laughed shortly. "'Indeed.' Oh, dear." She seemed about to say something more but turned on her heel and, running a hand through her hair to loosen the snarls, disappeared down the hall.

Mimi turned her golden eyes to Severus. "Meee?" she asked.

"Your guess is quite as good as mine."

Mimi blinked at him and trotted after Hermione.

Severus turned to watch the cereal.

"Skyn!"

Severus turned his gaze toward the ceiling. This worked for half a moment before he was turning back to the table-top.

"Snuggl kitteh?"

Then, "Sofft."

He turned his back on the cereal and stared out the window.

His own lack of reflection stared back at him. Fairly boring, that...

Within this rationalization, he gave himself permission to peek again.

"Handz!"

Bugger.

Eyes back to the window, and he forced himself to think about something else. Anything else. "Quoth the Raven..." his mind supplied.

He growled and turned back to the cereal.

"Gentl."

Wincing, he muttered, "Ghastly grim and ancient Raven," but he couldn't remember the rest of the line.

The cereal changed to, "Prrr."

"Bollocks." He cast about for something else to focus on.

The cereal scratched on the tabletop, and Mimi's, "Daon? Nonono. Do. Not. Want!" gave him enough warning to collect himself before Hermione returned, twisting her hair into a knot and securing it with her wand.

Immediately afterward, her hand went into her pocket and stayed.

Interesting.

He eyed the table again. "Baff."

He snorted.

"Yes, Professor?"

"That cat spends half her time sleeping and much of the rest of it bathing."

Hermione smiled. "Cats do." She settled herself on the floor, and, as the cereal rearranged to read "Wher Hermny? Prrfssr?" she laughed. "She doesn't know your name?"

Severus was taken momentarily aback and raised an eyebrow to buy himself time to form his reply before remembering that she couldn't see him. "I rather imagine she refers to me by what she has heard."

"She knows my name, I see."

He started to protest – he had no memory of using Hermione's name in the kitten's presence, but – Damn. That week he couldn't remember. He scowled, saying nothing for a moment.

When Hermione said nothing more, he drawled, "Miss Granger, I find your idea of 'real conversation' somewhat lacking."

Hermione nodded, smoothing a hand over her hair. Her other hand did not leave her pocket.

That did it. "But before we begin," he said, "a question."

"Is this the mystery you referred to this morning?"

"I don't spend my bargains so cheaply. No; there is something in your hand, and I judge from your hair earlier that it's been there much of the day."

Hermione blinked and removed her closed hand from her pocket, her flush rising.

"Playing coy, Miss Granger? If Mr. Weasley has finally proposed, you might as well put it on."

"He has, in fact; annually, for the last... but... oh, never mind Ron!" Hermione's eyes flashed.

Severus chuckled darkly. "I assure you, I've no interest in the matter."

Hermione closed the distance between them and opened her hand.

He glanced down and saw a small silver coin stamped with an owl resting in her palm. "A coin for the dead, Miss Granger? Surely you didn't ask me not to shuffle off merely so you had time to pilfer an appropriate bon voyage gift from that ark of antiquities you call a library..."

"Ark of... Pilfer? You're impossible," she spat.

Had she known where his eyes were and thus where to aim the look she was currently shooting through his chin, he might have quailed - slightly. As it was, however, he had her off balance and found he'd quite regained his own. His shoulders relaxed, and his cloak whispered.

"It's not a death coin, Professor Snape. An obol bears an owl on only one side. Look." She turned the coin over.

Same owl.

He shrugged, eyeing the coin with distaste. "A bad minting, perhaps."

She sighed, closing her hand. "Professor, have you ever heard of Athena's owl?"

"Children's stories, Miss Granger? Le Comte des Horloges?" He stepped away from her outstretched hand to lean on the windowsill. "What need have I of legends?"

"It's not just a legend. That's what I wanted to discuss..." Without warning, she blushed.

When she said nothing further, he opened his arms, audibly rustling his cloak. "Do continue, Miss Granger."

"The legend is true," Hermione began quietly. "I was looking for some record of... of something I couldn't find, and Demetrios suggested I use this."

"A simple locator spell wouldn't have done?"

Her expression darkened. "Not for anything this subtle, no. Will you please let me get this out? This isn't easy, you know, and I've barely had time to process it."

"Not easy" might have its uses. "Continue."

She shot a contained but somehow distracted look in his direction. "I spent several hours today trying to locate your body."

"Shirking your duties, Miss Granger?"

"Sir," she retorted, rather more hotly than seemed necessary, "pursuing my own research is part of my job. It comes with the title you won't deign to use."

"I am not a research project."

"Well, I'm sorry, but at least part of you is – the part I can't see. Now, Professor, will you do me the professional courtesy of holding your tongue?"

Severus blinked rapidly.

"I do rank you academically, and..." She stopped, raising her arms and letting them fall. Her voice was lower but no less intent as she said, "And I don't thank you at all for pushing me to play that card." Muttering, "What's wrong with me? I never do that," she ran her free hand through her hair and walked over to her bookshelves.

Severus recovered his speech. "Miss Grang- Doct-" He couldn't say it. Bollocks the chit. "I wonder you passed your viva."

"They weren't nearly as... well, you weren't on my committee, were you?" She shook herself slightly. "Fine."

He waited for her to continue, but she seemed prepared to let the conversation rest on that ambiguous adverb. He crossed his arms, and she heard it.

"Shall I continue?"

"If you wish."

"Not boring you, am I?"

He rumbled.

"I should hate to bore you with such –"

His voice low as he said, "You've made your point."

"Excellent. Having applied all the obvious and several of the more rarefied search methods to ascertain what happened to your... to the rest of you, well... There's simply no record of your body having been found, much less buried. I hit an absolute wall, so I talked it over with Demetrios. He suggested I use his 'owl' – it's what he calls the coin. It sounds impossible, but –"

Having had his status as her research project now down-graded to a coin toss, Severus drawled, "I revise my earlier statement –never mind your viva, Granger; it's a wonder you passed your N.E.W.T.s."

To his utter surprise, she nodded. "It sounds daft, I know, absolutely daft – but nevertheless. The coin... hm... obliged, you might say. It took me to Hogwarts."

He snorted. "I trust you gave my regards to Minerva?"

"Fifteen years ago. The Welcome Feast, my first year."

He said nothing. Clearly, she believed it to be true. "And on the basis of this..." Hallucination. "... evidence, you conclude that that coin is the legendary owl of Athena?"

She drew herself up and fixed his ear with a glare. "Demetrios doesn't fabricate the properties of artifacts."

"Of course not. However, it is possible that you saw what you hoped to see."

"I would never have hoped..." She stopped herself. "I can't have done."

"Can't?" he drawled skeptically. "You're so certain of your own mind?"

The eyes she raised toward his voice were calm. "Yes."

He started to retort but found he had none. He opened his hands, rustling his cloak again. "Proceed."

"And... and." She exhaled. "I'm sorry about this next part, but... I couldn't not look, as it was you I was looking for in the first place. I saw you."

"You base your deduction that the coin is, authentically, Athena's owl on the fact that I was at your Sorting? Really, Miss Gr-"

"It's more than that, and will you please stop interrupting?"

"Meee?" Mimi trotted urgently into the living room and, golden eyes wide, sat down between them.

The witch was becoming hysterical. His lip curled. He'd not been this diverted in years. "What did you see?"

"Your face. When you first laid eyes on Harry."

Her eyes were sincere. Apologetic.

He drew inward on himself, and a heavy silence lowered between them.

Mimi stared at Hermione, tail twitching.

After a long silence, he simply said, "Ah."

"I - Sir... Professor... I'm sorry," she said quietly, the slightest tremor in her voice. "I would never intentionally invade your privacy, not even in my imagination. But I don't remember you at all from the actual Feast fifteen years ago. And I could never have imagined what I saw this morning."

What had she seen? His mind raced backward.

"What I saw today was real. Demetrios concurs. But... I am sorry."

His mind stopped short. He said nothing as he stood there with his nostrils flaring, mentally staring at his one memory of Potter's Sorting. Those eyes...

And of those same eyes in another face... Eyes, alive with possibility. Eyes, smiling. At him.

How could she know about – Damn. He closed his eyes and groaned. "Potter told you," he accused her. "About..." He couldn't finish.

"Yes."

A tide of silence before she spoke again.

"Not just me," she said quietly.

Lily's eyes were wiped from his vision by a field of searing white.

He whirled, his arm a slashing backhand – not at her, but her bookcases. His magic flung outward from him in a roar; a snapping clench of his fist, and the air was full of flying, empty bindings which circled, whipping madly before falling, broken, to the floor.

Hermione stood quiet in the ruin of her library, blinking back tears. "Professor Sna-"

He opened his hand, arm still extended. "Don't."

She nodded, skirting the piles of empty covers to retrieve Mimi from under the chair.

A very quiet "Meee."

"Shhh, sweetheart," she murmured. "It's okay." She stood somehow apart from the wreckage he'd made of her living room, nuzzling the kitten.

Eventually he lowered his arm and exhaled.

Hermione's voice was low. "I wouldn't have told you, but that's not all."

"Of course it isn't."

"I'm almost certain that the coin will eventually take me to the Shrieking Shack, to the night you...." She swallowed. "It almost has to," she said fiercely.

"What of it?"

Hermione drew a deep breath, and in her eyes he saw something like the determination he'd always derided in his classroom, the determination that, when he couldn't scorn it into submission, would leap over years of training and experience to enact the most volatile of theories.

The girl's mind alone had cost him almost as much worry as Potter – an unsettling distraction when he'd least needed –

Her voice interrupted his memories. "If – when it does take me to that night, what would you have me do?"

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Random notes on sundry things...

~ A.