Tea Time

4: Tea Time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning, Albus."

"Hermione! Good morning to you as well. May I say that you look immensely tired?" Albus Dumbledore looked with concern at his youngest teacher. It was Sunday, and he had feared to see her. Poppy agreed with him that a forced healing was absolutely imminent, were she to remain a teacher at Hogwarts. He really didn't look forward to telling her that.

"She can't cope with it, Albus," the matron had said. "No one could. And I still think that we should have a strong word on that matter with Severus as well. They will both starve themselves to death if they go on like that." Madam Pomfrey had looked at the Headmaster, as she wasn't sure what he thought about her insistence to send both Hermione and Severus to St. Mungo's, not only for a complete check-up but to seek out a specialist who would delete their memories.

Dumbledore had agreed when it came down to Hermione. But Severus was a different matter. "I know, I have suggested a Memory Charm myself, Poppy, only to realise that it can't be done for him. Tom would sense that the memory of one of his closest followers had been fiddled with, and he would search very carefully in Severus's mind for what had been taken and what had been left. He might find memories he must not be allowed to find. That is far too risky. In the worst case, it would cost Severus's life."

But at least Hermione could be treated, whether she wanted it or not. Seeing the young woman turning into a living ghost had disturbed the Headmaster immensely, and although there could be no relief for the Potions master, there could at least...

That was the moment when Hermione came to the High Table, sat down, and filled her plate with everything within her reach.

"Didn't sleep much, Albus," she said, snatching up her fork and starting to eat with as much appetite as one could wish for.

It happened rarely that the Headmaster was lost for words. It took him a few moments to find a sufficient reply. "I guess there were no nightmares disturbing the little sleep you could get?"

Calmly, his Arithmancy professor looked up at him. "None at all. And in case you are wondering, there is no need to worry about me any longer. Nor about Severus." Returning her concentration to her food, she finished her breakfast quickly, getting up earlier than the other teachers. "Sorry, Albus, but I have to prepare for classes tomorrow. I have abandoned my duties, lately."

Snape was no more informative than Hermione when called to the Headmaster's office. "I take it Miss Granger told you she would find a sufficient solution," he answered quite coldly to Albus's questions. "She has. That should be enough for you."

"Actually, my dear boy, I am delighted to see you back amongst the living, but I need to know if you are in any state to continue your tasks – as teacher as well as a spy," Dumbledore said, his tone equally as cold. "If you have decided to delete the memory..."

"I haven't. I'm not stupid, Albus. The Dark Lord will search for the memories he has forced me to gather in the first place. If he doesn't find them, he will get very suspicious."

Turning, the Potions master headed for the door when Dumbledore called after him. "Can you assure me that, whatever solution you might have found, it is a safe solution for Miss Granger as well?"

Rooted to the spot, Snape spun round a second later and returned to the office, slamming the door behind him with such force that Dumbledore raised a questioning eyebrow, preventing the Sorting Hat from falling off his shelf with a casual movement of his hand.

"What did you just say?" Snape hissed, his voice cold enough to lower the temperature in the room by a few degrees. He was suddenly radiating power as well as rage, controlled only by years of training.

Dumbledore settled down in his chair with nothing more than a puzzled look. "I am certain that you have considered the possibility that Tom wasn't satisfied, cursing you with the Imperius, Severus. Don't you think he might find it amusing to go after Miss Granger now with more determination, if only to make sure she suffers enough from what she has been forced to endure?"

Snape was stunned into silence at that; he hadn't considered that possibility. For a few short hours, he had allowed himself to believe he was the only one whose memory might get raided by the Dark Lord. He was positive he could provide his master with what he was looking for, even though the memory of the rape wasn't too clear in his mind anymore. But that Voldemort could seek out Hermione... Another thought crossed the Potions master's mind: the Dark Lord might find it amusing to play the same game again.

Dumbledore watched the face of his friend, again astounded that it betrayed next to nothing. He had known Severus for more than twenty years, had seen him growing up, had seen him suffer before, had seen him become the man he was now. The Headmaster was actually able to guess what was going on in the Potions master's mind: he was in a killing mood. "Don't you do anything stupid, Severus," Albus said quietly. "Although the only remaining Horcrux is Nagini, it is still impossible to get close enough to Tom to kill him. As long as the man has his wand, not even Harry, who is prophesied to kill him, could win a fight against him."

That was the moment when a plan unfolded before Snape's inner eye, so simple, so easy, so absolutely mad that he even considered it possible to get through with it. "Albus, may I borrow the Sorting Hat?" he asked, and when the Headmaster didn't object, Snape took the battered hat into his arms. With a small nod, the Potions master then turned round once more and was gone, leaving a quite befuddled Headmaster behind.

*****

Snape stood for a while in front of Hermione Granger's door, unable to bring his hand up to knock. Instead, he studied her doormat, which was covered with books. Of course he was aware of how stupid he looked, like a schoolboy scared of a scolding; nevertheless, it took all his might to persuade his unwilling knuckles to seek contact with the wood.

It was not because he didn't want to see her or thought the sight of him would still terrify her. He knew her memories were as faint as his own, and he was pretty sure she would even smile at him were she to see him.

He simply didn't know how to act in her presence. She had spent a long night in his rooms and in his bed. She had slept with him and they had eaten together. When she had fallen asleep, he had carried her to the couch and protected her sleep. He had waited anxiously for nightmares to raid her dreams, but none came. Only once had she moaned, frightened, but instead of waking up, she had reached out a hand, found his, and relaxed instantly.

She had left whilst he was in the shower. Albus had informed him that she was in her rooms with the excuse of doing some preparation for her classes.

Now, at late afternoon, he stood in front of her door and needed to knock if his plan were to have a chance to work.

Raising his hand, Snape was just about to demand entrance when she ripped the door open. "How long are you going to stand there, Severus?" she asked curiously. "Come inside. Come on, I've made some tea." She even took his elbow and shoved the Potions master inside her rooms.

Surprised, he took a look round. He had never been here before; had she needed help with a potion or been looking for a book, she had always come down to the dungeons.

The walls were lit by dozens of candles, and a witchlight shone above the huge desk that dominated the room. Unlike his own very tidy desk, this one was buried under books, parchments, quills, ink bottles, mugs, and a plate with half-eaten sandwiches. So were the chairs in her room: everywhere books turned up, and Snape had the sudden urge to check if she slept on books as well. The room was friendly, bright, and welcoming. And it was warm – a fire was burning and Snape relaxed unconsciously. Where it was warm, he felt comfortable.

"Sorry, Severus," Hermione muttered and took a pile of books from one of the chairs, putting them on the desk where they disappeared in the chaos. "Here, take a seat – and here's your tea. Two sugars, if I remember correctly?"

Snape took a deep breath, wrapped his fingers round the mug, and inhaled the sweet fragrance of the slightly flavoured tea – bergamot, if his nose didn't betray him. "How come you know how I prefer my tea?" he asked and took a sip. Delicious.

She smiled at him and jumped onto her bed that claimed the outer wall, sat on it cross-legged, looking like a teenager in her wide shirt, her hand-knitted socks, and with her hair braided in two bushy plaits. Every little bit of her was shining with happiness. Gone was the hate in her eyes, gone were her hunched shoulders, vanished was the fear. Only the shadows under her eyes remained, and they would be gone soon as well, after a few good nights of sleep. "What can I do for you, Severus?" she asked, effectively avoiding his question.

"You can tell me how you knew I stood in front of your door," Snape said, barely able to take his eyes off her. She looked so content, undisturbed by his presence, and only then did he realise how much it meant to him that she of all people wasn't afraid of him anymore.

She smiled at him. "I had warded my doors with a spell specifically designed to warn me of your presence," she said idly. "I didn't have time yet to lower it. Were you afraid to knock? Did you think I would rip your head off?"

"Something like that," he grumbled and searched for a place to put down his mug. Looking at her sternly, he said, "Listen, Hermione, I need to know where you found the potion you brewed for me. It was surprisingly strong, and it was definitely a Dark Art. I don't understand why I have never heard of it, but I need it. Please tell me its ingredients and how to brew the potion."

That stunned her. "Dark Arts? I didn't know that. What do you need it for?" she asked in confusion. "I made it... well, you know why I brewed it. I never had any intention..."

He silenced her with one hand. "I need it," he urged. "Don't ask me why, as I can't tell you, but it is important. Please, Hermione – where did you find that recipe?"

She thought about that for a few moments, staring intently at her nearly empty cup. Then she made her decision, and she got up and leapt head first into a huge pile of old magazines. "It must be here somewhere, I know it," Snape heard her muttering. "Come on, I had you in my fingers only a few days ago, come on, don't hide, I know you're here somewhere! Ah! Here it is!" Triumphantly, she dug her hand to the bottom of the pile and came out again with a battered leaflet, half falling apart and only held together with a bit of Spellotape. Handing it to Snape, she briefly touched his fingertips.

Instinctively, he waited for her to flinch away from him, then saw that she herself breathed out with relief when the reaction she also must have expected didn't come. Her fingers were cool and dry, and he remembered how wonderful she had felt when he had held her in his arms this morning.

Snape flicked through the magazine and found a page that was marked with a piece of parchment. A few notes were scribbled on it in Hermione's handwriting. He scanned her notes, then went to the text. "That's German," he said with surprise.

"You're stating the obvious, Professor." Hermione grinned and took the magazine out of his hands. "My cousin is German; she's a bit odd, and she keeps all sorts of strange papers. This is nearly two centuries old, printed in a small town near the lake of Constance. She lent me a few of her magazines the last time I visited her, and as I didn't sleep much in the last few weeks, I read everything I could get my hands on. When I saw it, I knew this would be the answer. I didn't even think of the possibility that it could be a Dark Art."

"You have some hidden talents, Miss Granger," Snape mocked. "Can you translate it for me? Now?"

"Certainly. Have another cup of tea whilst I am working on it. Do you need the whole recipe or only the basic one? That is, with or without the aphrodisiac lacing?"

"Without, thank you very much," Snape replied dryly and watched her whilst she took out a fresh parchment and a quill, settling down to work.

It only took her a few minutes, and when he looked at the recipe, he knew that he needed to adjust it just slightly for his purposes. "Not really complicated, but cunning – this one would belong in the Restricted Section of the library if it were printed in a book. It seems someone invented it, published the recipe in this odd little magazine, and no one ever realised that it should be forbidden. Still, it is surprising that I never stumbled over it."

"Even you can't know everything, Severus," Hermione said. And then she added, "Would you like to come for a walk with me?"

Snape looked up at her, stowing the parchment with the recipe into his robes. He knew he shouldn't do it; he knew she shouldn't have asked him. Nevertheless, he said, "It would be my pleasure."

*****

A few days later a fist knocked demandingly at No 12, Grimmauld Place. It was late afternoon, just before tea time, but Harry knew that none of his friends would call round unannounced without a very good reason. Therefore, he told Ginny to stay in the kitchen, took his wand, and opened the door, ready to strike.

He had suspected a stranger, but the figure on his doorsteps wasn't. "Snape!" Harry exclaimed, stunned at the fact that the Potions master was visiting his home without an Order meeting scheduled. "What on earth are you doing here – don't you have to torment some students?"

"Potter," Snape sneered, disgust in his voice. "I need your help, I need it now. Are you capable of controlling your mistrust of me for at least a little while?"

Harry frowned at these words, but lowered his wand and opened the door a bit wider in order to let Snape into the house. He would never trust Snape farther than he could throw him, but the man was their spy, Dumbledore vouched for him, and that was good enough for Harry as long as Snape didn't step over the line. "Get inside," Harry said, putting his wand on a sideboard next to the door.

Snape, who had only waited for this to happen, stepped forward, grabbed the younger man by the shoulders, and Disapparated with him.

Harry struggled and fought to get away from Snape as soon as the spinning sensation in his head had stopped. "You bastard!" he screamed, but Snape just carelessly brought up his elbow and half knocked Harry out with a hard blow against his chin.

"Shut up, Potter, and do what you are told for a change," Snape hissed, dragging Harry along and towards a huge old house in the middle of nowhere. Harry, having no chance but to stumble along, could only see a rotten door on rusty hinges before he was pushed inside, Snape's hand clutched like an iron around his upper arm. The pain from the blow was blurring his vision, and he could barely master his feet to follow in the right direction as Snape dragged him along mercilessly until they came to another door, less rotten, radiating icy danger.

Snape slammed Potter against the wall next to the door. His face was deathly white; his black eyes burned in their sockets. With sudden insight, Harry realised that the man was under a huge amount of pressure and very close to snapping, to losing control. He didn't dare ponder on what would happen then.

"This will most likely cost both our lives, Potter, and to avoid that, for once in your lousy life, I need you to obey me," Snape's voice whispered in Harry's ear. "Do not talk; behave as if you were under the Imperius Curse. And for Merlin's sake, shield your thoughts." Then he buried his hand in Harry's hair, smacked his head hard against the wall, and caught him when Harry's legs gave way. Snape knocked once, waited for a hissed order to enter, and pushed the door open.