Chapter Four: Precious Metal

Disclaimer: The characters and settings within belong to J.K.Rowling. I am just giving them a little outing.

Chapter Four: Precious Metal

The face in the mirror is so like her own at that age; large, brown eyes so often occupied devouring the words from the books she adores; pert, little nose wrinkling when she disapproved; soft, rose petal lips, frequently plump from kissing her beloved fiancé. Her hair is a cascade of curls, flying every which way when she tosses her head in laughter; her figure slender and lithe, only now developing into the woman she would become. The older witch sighs for her lost youth, but smiles as she remembers the love and passion she found herself at that age.

"Yes, darling. But it was necessary. Severus had a task to do and could not safely stay after the events of the following night. He needed to place himself deeply into his Dark master's favour in order to fulfil his obligations to Dumbledore. He had known all along the day would come when he would betray Hermione's faith, and when the time arrived, he was all the more devastated having enjoyed a brief taste of acceptance and caring."

Hermione sat in the hospital wing, hands covering her face, tears reforming even as they dried on her cheeks. Amidst the grief for Dumbledore's death and the worry for Bill Weasley, no-one was aware the young woman cried not just for the late headmaster but also for the infinite depths of anguish she knew her friend was suffering. Finally, she knew the impossible task he had been ordered to perform. Finally, she understood the intensity of his pain. Having borne witness to his reaction to Dumbledore's plan, she knew without any doubt in her heart Severus Snape was no traitor. She was also aware she could not share that knowledge with anyone, just as he had foreseen. Hatred and bitterness lay heavily in the room, and it was all directed at one man. Her only hope for his salvation lay in a small piece of foil in her pocket.

"Luna, stay here and watch for any activity back down the corridors. We don't want to be taken by surprise. Whistle if anything happens, but don't show yourself unless I say your name," she suggested as they approached Snape's office.

The next moment, he was gone, leaving her clutching an empty chocolate bar wrapper in her hand. Stowing it in her pocket, she called Luna to help her with the Charms professor.

She had not had time to examine the wrapper, but if it was important enough for Snape to stop to retrieve and give to her, she was not about to discard it. If nothing else it was a reminder of all the chocolate they had shared over the past two months. Reaching into her pocket for the hundredth time to touch the small symbol of Snape's trust in her, she watched Harry leave with Professor McGonagall.

Over the next few days, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny discovered the strength within their bonds of friendship. Often just sitting outside by the lake, the cloudless sky and warm breeze taunting them with reminders of how things should have been, they simply watched the giant squid frolicking aimlessly in the water and yearned for the normality of classes and homework.

Hermione closed her eyes against the mocking sun, pondering the whereabouts of the wizarding world's currently most wanted man. She hoped and prayed to whatever gods would listen that he was safe, at least physically. His mental state was without doubt fragile – guilt, grief, and fear for the future clouding his judgement just when he needed his full ability as a spy to stay alive. The dramatic gesture of killing Albus Dumbledore – or at least hastening his demise – would have been wasted if he was unveiled as a spy due to the emotional fall-out of the deed.

"Are you OK, Hermione?" Harry had noticed her withdrawal from the conversation and worried frown.

"What? Sorry, my mind was elsewhere." She swiftly brushed off his concern as she stood and stretched. "Must be time for lunch. Coming?"

After lunch, Hermione headed for the library once again to search for any information about the mysterious R.A.B. She also had a rather more personal interest to pursue. After beating the dust off a hundred or more old Daily Prophets, she finally found what she was looking for – the birth notice of one Severus Tobias Snape, son of Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince, a Half-Blood Prince indeed. "Oh, Professor," she whispered into the stillness of the empty library. "Are you safe?"

She had not realised how much her friendship with the dour man had meant to her over the preceding few months. His dry sense of humour and understanding of her intellectual nature had far surpassed that of her peers, much as she loved the latter. Harry and Ron would always be her best friends, but Severus Snape was in many ways a kindred spirit. His loneliness as an adolescent, to which he had only hinted, had reminded her of a childhood spent avoiding taunts from her classmates at primary school. He had not been the first to call her a know-it-all. The boys had never really understood the nature of the only child who had spent much of her time in her room reading, but Snape had been there himself. The professor and the sixth-year shared a bond of commonality of experience that transcended their difference in age and status. Her compassion for his parlous situation at Voldemort and Dumbledore's hands served only to provide the courage she had needed to push past the barriers of his rigidly controlled persona and discover the man within.

Tightly locking down her emotions regarding the now ex-professor, she returned to the common room to await the right moment to talk with Harry. As she had half-expected, Harry could not talk of Snape without hatred and revenge oozing from every pore. It was hopeless. She eventually retired, defeated and saddened at the bitterness her friend had immersed himself within.

***

As the incandescence of the flames and the wispy smoke disappeared, leaving the stark, white tomb proclaiming the grim truth of Albus Dumbledore's death, Hermione lifted her head from Ron's shoulder. Sharp, crystal tears had fallen unheeded upon their laps, their grief as entwined as their fingers. The passing of such a powerful yet beloved wizard as Dumbledore had wrenched apart the hearts of those present, allowing fears for their future to paralyse their hopes and dreams.

The Order of the Phoenix was now a headless entity, lost without its leader and strategist. Who now would take up the mantle of responsibility and make the cold, hard decisions for the greater good? But thoughts of the Order were far from the minds of most as they wept under the relentless, blue sky. The weight of their sorrow was too overwhelming; surviving the day and supporting one another the only task to bear.

Harry's descent into calm determination disturbed Hermione greatly. She had watched as he had reluctantly turned his back on Ginny's love and despatched the Minister of Magic with a few brief words, but when he had advised them of his plans to visit Godric's Hollow and begin the hunt for the remaining Horcruxes alone, she and Ron had disabused him of that notion. They had started their journey towards defeating Voldemort together back in first year, and no amount of self-sacrificing nobility of Harry's was going to sunder that alliance.

Slipping up to her dormitory to finish packing, Hermione was suddenly blessed with inspiration. A simple Accio worked like the charm it was and provided her with the books on Horcruxes direct from Dumbledore's library. After adding one or two on memory charms she had smuggled out of the library from under Madam Pince's nose, she was ready to leave the comforting embrace of Hogwarts' stone walls.

A heavy silence hovered over the Hogwarts Express as it devoured the miles back to London. No laughter or excited chatter resounded through the carriages; no cheerful faces anticipating the long summer holidays were to be found. Staring sightlessly out of the window at the passing countryside, Hermione's thoughts once more turned to Snape. She wondered where he might be, whether he had been hurt during his flight from the castle or, worse still, tortured by the vile corruption that was Voldemort for taking over what had been presumably Draco Malfoy's mission. As she sat and brooded, the hand in her pocket felt the smooth, cool surface of the chocolate wrapper. She had studied it in private over the preceding few days, and it appeared to be nothing more than a small piece of gold foil. There was no message on its surface, but it was not magically inert. Snape had done something with it; she just did not know what.

King's Cross station signified a temporary separation of the three friends. Harry was to return to the Dursleys until he was seventeen and no longer protected by the powerful magic residing there. His respect for Dumbledore's wishes had overridden his need for action. They had to wait until after Bill and Fleur's wedding in any case, so he swallowed his frustration and went quietly while Ron returned to the Burrow and Hermione to her parents' home.

Immersed in the warmth of her childhood home, Hermione's anxiety abated a little. Her parents were only aware Dumbledore had died, but as she had never fully explained the nature of Voldemort and his Death Eaters for fear of being withdrawn from Hogwarts, they had no idea of the true evil of Voldemort and his followers. Her vague explanation of a little political unrest in the wizarding community sufficed to explain the situation.

Well fed, rested, and having spent a few hours reading of the chilling nature of Horcruxes, Hermione took the wrapper from her pocket and studied it once more.

Suddenly, the foil warmed under her fingers. The feeling reminded her of something she had experienced before... something important... something recent. Taking her wand in hand, she cautiously touched it to the wrapper. Writing slowly became evident on the surface of the foil – writing in Snape's distinctive hand.

Now you know.

Three words. A Protean charm, just as she had used in fifth year, only this time cast on the gold foil, not on a coin.

He was alive!

She caught herself in time as the giddy relief almost had her whooping with triumph. Alive and able to communicate. However, she was not so foolish as to assume anything. Thinking for a moment, she tapped the foil with her wand.

Severus, my love, how could you leave me?

Hoping desperately he would understand the underlying message, she awaited his reply.

Mother Granger, I am alone and under no duress. Do I dare to hope I still have your trust?

Hermione sighed thankfully. He had realised her ploy and responded by using a name no-one else would have ever heard. Did she trust him? She realised her faith in the raven-haired wizard had never wavered – it had never been in question.

Professor, I believe in you. Always.

There was no response for several long moments. Getting into her pyjamas while constantly watching the wrapper, Hermione wondered if he had been interrupted.

Thank you.

As the words faded, the foil cooled, signalling the end of the communication. That night, Hermione had her most restful sleep since the events on the Astronomy tower.

Severus Snape was alive.

***

A/N: This was written for the Hermione Big Bang on LiveJournal, which celebrated Hermione's thirtieth birthday. Many thanks go to my friend and colleague, quaffswinegaily, who helped along the way, my beloved beta, ladyinthecloak, and my cheerleader, Michelle.