Elizabeth – Moon Chaser

The dimly lit library was cool, which Severus didn’t mind. What he did mind was the upturned dust in the air. He and Hermione had been in there for hours searching for helpful texts on resurrection potions and how to counter them.

“Severus?” Hermione said, dropping a large tome onto the stack. “The suspect left a note saying he only had one ingredient left to collect on the Harvest Moon. But wouldn’t it be better to get the belladonna during the New Moon?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I was just thinking that. It must have been another false lead. I suppose he had hoped you would leave the lineament open to him if you thought he wouldn’t be back until then. He just has a resurrection base; this is a pitiful potion if he thinks these ingredients alone will raise the dead. It would be beneficial for us to visit the site. We could find possible ingredients for our own potion and watch certain areas for the infiltrator.”

“I agree.” She gave him a warm smile.

For a moment he thought her eyes raked his person, but the lighting was poor, he couldn’t be sure.

Hermione said, “I’ll have to get you clearance. Remember the diktat?”

Glancing at his pocket watch, Severus noted that it was past eleven. Surely the Ministry was deserted at this hour. They were probably the only two left besides security. “We’ll have to wait until morning. Thank goodness tomorrow’s a Saturday.”

Hermione began making copies of the relevant potions to analyze later. He was about to make his excuses to leave when she spoke.

“I know it’s late, but would you like to come over? We could take a break from this case and maybe have a nightcap. I think we’ve looked at this stuff too long,” she said.

Had he just heard her right? This was Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire; she never took breaks. And she had just invited him to socialize. He hid his delight behind his usual mask.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t drink,” he said.

She organized the books out of habit. “I don’t drink while working. This is entirely personal.” She gathered her books to return to the shelves. “But if you’d rather not—”

“I’d like that,” he answered quietly.

The next morning, it was difficult for Severus to awaken. The two had discussed every possible subject until the wee hours of the morning. It had been so long since he’d had an agreeable conversation. Her images plagued his mind. She had been comfortably curled on her sofa, drinks shared between them. Her smile had only been for him.

But that had been last night. He didn’t have time to have a lie in. There was a madman on the loose bringing the Dark Lord back. He met Hermione in the Magical Law Enforcement office, and he got his clearance to visit the lineament. Hermione Apparated them to the site. He felt a jolt of excitement course through his body when she grasped his hand. Her skin was warm and soft.

Autumn was beautiful in Scotland. The weathered rocks were covered in rust-colored shrubs and heather, interspersed with stubby brush. A cool breeze smelling of a nearby loch blew across the landscape. Hermione’s hair wafted about her face. She was quite pleasing to the eyes. He was staring but couldn’t stop. Hermione’s cheeks were tinged pink as she let go of his hand.

Two Aurors approached. They were none other than The-Boy-Who-Never-Died and Pervert Corner. Severus noted their distance from each other—they lacked any sort of friendship.

“Hiya, Hermione,” Potter said.

Corner averted his eyes.

“Hello, Harry.” She smiled. “How’s Ginny?”

Severus tried to focus on their small talk. But he had never cared much for Potter, even after the war. They were talking about the World Quidditch Cup and something about camping after infiltrating the Ministry. How those two topics connected was beyond him.

After a few minutes, Severus gave a well-timed cough. Hermione wrapped up her conversation, and Potter gave them clearance to enter. As they approached the geographic feature, he was impressed with the strength of the exterior wards; the wind didn’t even penetrate them.

“How large is this lineament?” he queried once they were alone.

“It’s several miles long. We are at the southern end. We’ve found most of the culprit’s activities focused within a few acres of this point. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t monitoring other sectors of the lineament.”

She led him to a grove of ancient yew trees. Her hand brushed his; again he felt a pleasant tingle when their skin touched. The yew trees were aged and gnarled. Their boughs blocked out the sunlight, prohibiting undergrowth. The holes were random, their sizes varied. Mounds of dirt and rock were piled against trees.

Next, she showed him the site of the sacrificial burning. He could see the magical residue coming off of the altar. Something dark had taken place here.

“We aren’t sure what was sacrificed here, but we’re leaning towards an animal . . . What are those? They weren’t there before.” Hermione pointed to some delicate pieces of curved silver.

“Those are occamy eggshells!” Severus gasped. “If he’s sacrificed an occamy and harvested its undeveloped eggs, then he’s much further along on this potion than I suspected. How he got an occamy is beyond me. But we have to find that belladonna now.”

They searched all day and into the night, only pausing when the moon rose over the low-lying hills. It was just a sliver now. In two days it would be a new moon, and the perpetrator would come to harvest. They designed to meet earlier tomorrow and search until it was found. Tonight, Hermione didn’t ask him over, but she gave his arm a friendly squeeze before leaving.

Severus was determined to find the belladonna. Fortunately, Granger was very sedulous in her application. During the night, she had found several different maps detailing the lineament. When she showed them to him the next morning, he determined the best place for finding belladonna. Three hours later, they arrived in a large meadow full of the stuff.

After staking out the field and preparing for tomorrow night, they went back to Hermione’s flat. In case they failed in apprehending the suspect, they wanted to set in place an antidote to the resurrection potion, sort of Plan B.

On Monday evening, Severus Apparated to the lineament after dinner. Hermione hadn’t arrived yet, and he was forced to stand with Michael Corner. She appeared shortly, giving their passes to Corner for inspection. They went to their designated hiding spot to wait. As the moonless evening grew chilly, Hermione inched closer, snuggling up against him. Severus was glad for the warmth and glad for her company.

Late in the night, someone breached the wards. Following their plan, he and Hermione split up, circling around the intruder. Suddenly, light burst to life at the far end of the field. It crackled and roared, growing with speed. Smoke assaulted Severus’ nose. A fire.

It was hot and rampant. Snakes flickered and chimeras sprang out of it—Fiendfyre. And then she screamed. Hermione. Forgetting the plan, he ran through the belladonna. It slapped against his thighs while he scanned for her figure against the blaze. He called her name, no, yelled it, and she bolted his way. A snake coil weaved through the plants, cutting them off. Pouring all his energy into the fire, he was able to control it long enough to escape through a gap. They struggled through the rocky terrain on the edge of the meadow, the fire hot on their heels. It was melting the earth around them.

A small loch spread out before them. Severus knew it was their only chance as an ear-splitting growl rang out behind them. The cool water was shallow and muddy. Severus’ boots were waterproof, but Hermione was struggling in her trainers. She fell over with a splash. With one fluid movement, he swooped her into his arms, carrying her as she coughed.

A minute isle appeared in the inky night. Gently, he put Hermione down on dry ground. “Are you alright?” he asked with concern.

“I inhaled a lot of smoke. I’m a bit dizzy.” She staggered. “Hold me a bit,” she said quietly.

Severus was willing to hold her for all eternity.

“You saved me, Severus.” She ran her hand down his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered and stood on tiptoes, inches from his mouth. His heart was in his throat. Her lips were full and parted.

“Granger!” someone yelled in the night air. “Granger, are you out there?” The voice came from the mainland, somewhere amongst the smoldering remains of the meadow and the dead Fiendfyre.

Hermione looked confused, her eyes out of focus. She snatched her hands away. “I’m sorry. What was I doing?” she said apologetically. She was embarrassed, but he wasn’t going to taunt her.

Pieces clicked together for Severus. Hermione had inhaled the smoke from the belladonna. And it was commonly used as an aphrodisiac when smoked. Before he could fully process everything, Unspeakable Croaker Apparated next to them.

“What just happened?” Croaker demanded, waving his wand.

Switching into business mode, Hermione said, “We were stalking the culprit, but he conjured the Fiendfyre before we could apprehend him, sir. Professor Snape saved us both. Luckily all the belladonna was burned in the fire. He most likely didn’t get any for his potion.”

“I hope you’re right about the ingredient. Because he got away,” Croaker said with distain. “I discovered the mole’s identity and came as soon as I could to warn you. Looks like I was too late.”

“Who’s the mole?” Hermione asked eagerly.

“Auror Michael Corner.”

Severus was shocked. He had been expecting a war vet or someone with an important connection to the war. Surely Corner wasn’t the mastermind behind all this. Severus remembered his grades in Potions. The boy was an imbecile. “He has to be working for someone else. The boy is not capable of bringing back the Dark Lord. Of that I am sure.”

Severus wasn’t able to leave the castle for several days. On Saturday, he visited Hermione’s flat, and they worked on the anti-resurrection potion. She hadn’t tried to kiss him since her little boost with the belladonna. But now Severus knew how she felt. The plant enhanced one’s feelings; it didn’t create false ones.

In between potion stages, she offered to make a cup of tea. While she clattered about in the kitchen, he perused the many books she had scattered around the house. He paused on a book full of Tennyson. Maybe it was the cover that caught his eye—it just looked odd.

Hermione placed a plate of Cornish pasties and the tea on the table. She saw his book choice. “I got that book at a Tchotchke shop,” she said. “I was at Windsor Castle a few years back, and the book just seemed out of place, so I bought it.”

He appreciatively flipped through it, and the pages opened onto a small poem.

Old Yew, which graspeth at the stones

That name the under-lying dead,

Thy fibres net the dreamless head,

Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.

The book snapped shut. “His wand! The forest is made of yew,” Severus said. “It’s the only thing Voldemort has to connect him to this world now. We have to find his yew wand before Corner does. And we only have nine days left.”

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