Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money here.

AN: This story was written for the 2010 sshg_exchange as a gift for lady_karelia. Many thanks to my super, wonderful betas, dreamy_dragon73 and Clairvoyant.

Hermione stewed in her room for the better part of an hour, muttering curse words aimed at Kingsley Shacklebolt while repeatedly blasting and repairing things in her room, venting her anger. He and his stupid theories that paired her up with two Slytherins to complete this thrice damned triad.

Once he left, and she was certain that Harry was busy with James, she slunk back down to her study and started playing with the equations again. Determined to prove Kingsley wrong, this time she factored in different Houses and combinations thereof. It only made her more angry when it turned out that none of the combinations led to a different conclusion other than the one Kingsley had suggested.

Unhappy with the results, Hermione continued to pore over her calculations well into the night. Harry finally came in before going to bed, breaking her concentration.

"Um... Hermione," Harry said softly.

"Oh, hi, Harry. Sorry about losing my temper and storming out earlier," she apologized.

"Well, I guess I can't blame you. The whole idea must have come as a bit of a shock."

"Yeah, I was already having a hard time accepting the whole triad thing, but the idea of being paired up with two Slytherins was just too much for me. I still don't see how it could be right, though. I've been racking my brains, trying to think of who it could be but haven't been able to come up with any strong candidates. What do you think?"

"Ummm... I don't know. There are a few, I guess." Harry hesitated. "Uh... Hermione, how exactly do you think this whole triad thing might work out?"

"I don't really know for sure. I guess I'll check with Shacklebolt and find out what his resources were and do some checking on my own."

"Well, I meant not so much the history part of it as the actual triad part. You found that in your formulations, right?"

"Yes, I guess when we figure out who these other two are, we will have to form a partnership, like a business contract, to work together on this. There is some special magic we have to find to activate the balance."

"Yeah, I guess it's probably something like that. Here," he said, handing her a scrap of paper, "Kingsley left this and said for you to try plugging that into your formula and see what you get."

Hermione looked at the paper. There were two runes: Sowilo and Berkano, followed by the runes Fehu and Othala. She looked up at Harry questioningly.

"He said to try these; the first two runes should go with your part of the formula, then put in the others. If they seem like a match, he has some other figures that might narrow it down more. But try these first because he said if these don't match, he's on the wrong track, and the numbers would be irrelevant."

With a sigh, Hermione pulled out a fresh parchment and started from scratch.

"Couldn't you just plug the runes into the last set you did?" asked Harry.

"Yes, I could, but I don't want to take any chance of errors, so I'm going to run the whole thing from the start," replied Hermione.

Soon the magic that was Arithmancy took shape; the numbers and symbols were moving and shifting, swirling in patterns that were practically psychedelic. Hermione's eyes darted from point to point across the parchment as she watched the changes and anticipated what was going to happen next. Her brow wrinkled in concentration, and she pursed her lips as she tapped her index finger nervously on the desktop.

As the process seemed to slow to a stop, Hermione looked up at Harry. "It does look like he's on the right track. Of course that could all change depending on the other numbers he's got. Did he tell you who this represents, Harry?" Hermione asked, pointing to Fehu and Othala.

"No... not specifically," he hedged, then gave her shoulder a conciliatory squeeze. "But I'm fairly sure that he knew the answer wasn't going to make you happy," he finished with a yawn. "Well, I've got to get to bed. You should get some rest too, Sis."

"I will, Harry, in a few minutes, I promise."

It wasn't until after Harry had left that Hermione realized that he'd been very vague about Kingsley's candidates. 'Not specifically' could mean anything, but knowing Harry, it probably meant 'I've got a pretty good idea, but I'm not saying because you might hex me.'

Hermione sighed. Things were not looking good in her opinion.

Half a world away in the far north of Ontario, Canada, in a small town called Marten Falls First Nation, a tall man, clad in black, strode into town. He approached the home of the town elder and knocked politely on the door.

An ancient looking Indian man answered his knock. "Mr. Greyfox, I presume?​" said the stranger in a silky voice with an English accent.

Looking the newcomer up and down, he said, "You must be Snape."

Severus nodded.

"I got your letter. I've been expecting you. Come in, come in. I welcome you into my home. Am I correct in my understanding that you wish to learn the ways of the old ones?"

"Yes, to a certain extent. I wish to learn about the plants and things your people use for healing. It is a specialty of mine; I make medicines from things I find in nature. I am going to be gathering ingredients for my po... medicines. I'm looking for some extremely rare ingredients that I've been led to believe might grow in this area; they can only be found at the very first spring thaw when the new shoots start to spike. While I am here, I would also like to learn what other kinds of things your people find in the wild that are of value for healing and such."

"Ah, yes. You are a medicine man then, a Shaman. A powerful one too, if I am any judge, and I am." The old man laughed at his own joke. He was the small town's mayor, police chief and as a tribal elder a kind of judge, as well.

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to claim to be a Shaman, but I have studied many different cultures. In the last six years, I've traveled the world to learn whatever I can in each place I stay and gather ingredients in that locale. You said in our correspondence that you have a cabin I could rent for a month or two while I harvest my ingredients?"

"Yes, but it's a bit isolated...about eight miles west of town." The town itself was more than a bit isolated, being home to fewer than six hundred people. There were no roads leading here, and the only access was to charter a plane, unless of course you were a wizard, but Severus didn't tell Mr. Greyfox that. "I will drive you out there; we can talk along the way. You can pick up supplies at the store before we leave."

The two men had a lively conversation during the drive on the rough, snow-covered back roads leading to the cabin. Mr. Greyfox had a sister who was quite skilled in herbal remedies, and he offered to introduce her to Severus. The cabin was small: basically, one large open area with a wood stove for heat, a small kitchen area to one side with a sink, a propane refrigerator and cook stove, and a table and four chairs. Art (Mr Greyfox had told Severus to call him Art, short for Artemus) was quite proud to point out that the cabin actually had electricity provided by a gasoline generator and 'indoor' facilities, as he showed him the bathroom just off the bedroom. Other than the one bedroom he had pointed out, the sofa could be made into a bed, and there was a loft area above that had extra room and a couple of bunks, if Severus planned to have any company while he was there.

Severus informed him that it suited his needs and paid Art for one month's rent with an open end agreement that he might stay on longer, if he was finding the things he hoped to in the area. This was the off-season for tourists, and this far north people didn't just pop by and rent the cabin on a whim. It was mostly fishermen who came in the summer months. They would fly in, stay a week or so and leave. To rent it out for a whole month and in March no less, when it always sat empty, was boon for Art. He left Severus to settle in and promised to bring his sister in two days.

Severus brewed himself a cup of tea and sat by the window to enjoy the sunset. He had a good view of the lake, although he had to keep casting a warming charm, as it was getting damn cold as night came on. He worried he might have misjudged the timing of the spring thaw, if the temperatures were any indication. He used his magic to get a nice fire going in the wood stove, and before too long, the room was toasty warm.

Looking around, he decided that the small cabin suited his purposes well and, Merlin knew, he'd certainly stayed in a lot worse places over the last seven years since he'd left England. He'd basically been a nomad, wandering from one place to the next, learning different variations of magic in various cultures and gathering rare and unusual potions ingredients along the way.

He'd spent several months immediately following his recovery from Nagini's bite traveling about Europe, staying in Malfoy holdings. When it became clear that there was no danger of prosecution for his past, he could have returned to Britain. By that point the question in his mind was why? Return to what? He had no burning desire to return to teaching. He had no family or close friends other than the Malfoys to draw him back there. Most importantly, he had no obligations to follow a master's orders.

For the first time in his adult life, he was free to do as he wished, and he had decided to visit a myriad of locales in the wizarding world. He had always been fascinated by both the differences and the similarities of magic in different cultures, and so he had devoted the last seven years to studying throughout the wizarding world.

He'd made many fascinating discoveries in those years and learned things that even he had never thought possible. What had brought him here was a rumor: a very special plant that grew only in this area and needed to be harvested at precisely the right time for it to be a viable potion ingredient. He only hoped his timing was right as a lot would depend on nature's whims as to when the spring thaw would come to the area. That's what it ultimately came down to. It was all a matter of timing.

Hermione awoke the next morning and felt like there was a big black cloud hanging over her. Deep down, she knew it was more than the conflict with Kingsley. It had a lot to do with the date, March first. It was a date that always made her depressed.

She was even more unhappy when she arrived at the Ministry of Magic. The type of work she did was such that she was often able to work from her study at home, thus she only came into the Ministry one or two days a week. On this day, when she arrived she found that all of the information on the projects she was currently working on had been removed from her desk. In a fury, she called in her assistant, "Meg, where are all the files on my projects? You know I don't want you tidying up my desk; this space is off limits!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Granger, weren't you notified? Oh, my gosh, I thought they would have told you."

Hermione could see the girl was clearly upset; she looked near tears. "Told me what, Meg? What's going on here?"

"The memo came directly from the Minister's office. It said all of your projects were to be reassigned to other Arithmancers because you were going to be working on a special project. I'm really sorry, Miss Granger, I never would have touched your files otherwise, but it was straight from the Minister," Meg exclaimed.

"Don't worry, Meg, I'll get to the bottom of this myself," she said, heading for the door.

In a matter of minutes, Hermione was at the executive offices of the Minister of Magic, having a shouting match with the Minister's Chief of Staff.

"I need to talk to Kingsley immediately," she demanded angrily. "I want answers, and I want them now."

"Look, Granger, I warned him you'd react this way, but he didn't listen to me on this one," explained Draco Malfoy.

"Do you mean to tell me that you are privy to the workings of my job and whatever this special project is that he supposedly has lined up for me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I have direct knowledge of everything that goes on here at the Ministry, and I predicted that you'd be down here ready to bite someone's head off. I swore it wasn't going to be me. Look, he's got vital meetings with international envoys this morning, and his schedule is filled for the entire day; you won't be able to see him."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, Draco raised his hand to silence her. "But," he continued, "I will inform him directly the first chance I get that you are extremely upset and want explanations. I promise that he will come talk to you this evening. Are you willing to accept that option?"

She shoved his hand away and gave him a death glare but finally capitulated. "Fine," she snarled, "but he'd better have some damn good reasons. I had several important projects that I've been working on for months. I don't appreciate having them just handed off to other staff."

"I'll be sure to relay your displeasure to the Minister, Granger; you can be certain of it," replied Malfoy with a cheeky grin.

"Grrrr..." Hermione growled as she stalked out of the room.

~

Later that evening, Hermione hurried down to her office after Kreacher had informed her that she had

a visitor. Fully expecting Kingsley, she was surprised to see someone seated in one of the high back

chairs before the fireplace, his back towards her, only the top of his platinum blond head visible.

"Draco, damn it all, if you've come here to make excuses for him..." she began, but gasped when he stood. It wasn't Draco.

"You!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, good evening to you too, Miss Granger. Is this how you greet all of your guests?"

"Don't try to call me to task for poor manners; I remember quite clearly how guests were treated in your home during the war, Mr. Malfoy. Of course technically we weren't guests, were we? More like captives."

"You'll forgive me if I don't apologize for something that happened years ago, which I really had no control over at the time."

"No control! You wanted to turn us over to Voldemort to save your own worthless hide. You locked people up in your dungeons; you watched as I was tortured; you would have let her give me to Greyback. You have no business here, Mr. Malfoy. Get out."

"Hermione, he is a guest here at my invitation. Kingsley requested that he be here," said Harry firmly, standing in the hallway with Kingsley beside him.

"You would welcome this man into our home, Harry? You have a son to protect. How could you let him anywhere near James?"

"Don't you dare imply that I would do anything to put my son at risk, Hermione. Not ever," Harry responded angrily. "I can't believe that you would say such a thing to me. Don't try to tell me who I can invite into my home."

Hermione couldn't have looked any more hurt if Harry had slapped her. She made as if to leave the room, but Lucius put up a hand to stop her. "It pains me to think that you would believe me capable of harming a child, Miss Granger. I assure you I would never do such a thing."

"Really, Mr. Malfoy? Never?" she asked sarcastically, taking a step back from him. "You expect me to believe that? Is my memory faulty or was it not you who placed Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron at Flourish and Blotts? She was an eleven-year-old girl...did you truly think that no harm would come of that action?

"And wasn't it you and your cohorts who roamed the country, torturing and killing Muggles whose only crime was having given birth to a child who was a witch or a wizard? Do you think that did not hurt those children, to know that their families, their parents, their siblings were endangered because of what they were...through no fault of their own?"

"And did you not teach your own son to believe that Mudbloods were an abomination, Muggles little more than animals? Did you not teach him that hatred? Did you not wish for the genocide of an entire population of people; people like me, witches and wizards unworthy of living in your world?"

"Hermione..." Harry started, but Lucius interrupted him.

"I would like very much to deny these things, Miss Granger. But in all honesty, I cannot. Everything you have said has an element of truth. But can you not find it in your heart to believe that a man can change? That circumstances and events can cause a man to denounce his past and try to make amends?"

"I would truly like to believe there is some good in everyone and a chance for redemption, but somehow, I have my doubts. Let me ask you this, Mr. Malfoy. If, Merlin forbid, the pendulum had swung the other way seven years ago, if my side had lost, and Harry had been defeated...would you now be making these claims of change and denouncing your past? Or would you be sitting in glory beside your Dark Lord Voldemort, reaping your rewards as a good little Death Eater?"

tbc

AN: For more information on runes and their meanings, check this site: http://www.sunnyway.com/runes/meanings.html