On the Wheel

I fell into a burning ring of fire

I went down, down, down

And the flames went higher

And it burns, burns, burns

The ring of fire

The ring of fire

~ Johnny Cash, The Ring of Fire

With her right foot already on the first step of the staircase, Hermione turned and looked back at the two men absorbed in the Gobstones set. Eustace was filling a pipe with tobacco and asking Snape if he would have a drag. Severus replied, "D'you really want me to start smoking again, eh?"

Her eyes lingered over Snape's back. Wearing black, surrounded by all that spotless white furniture, he seemed even smaller and frailer than usual.

Mrs. Boddington had to notice the raising concern in her expression, for she leaned toward Hermione and spoke softly to her ear, "Don't worry, dear. The stones have been permanently enchanted to respond to Severus' touch. It was one of the last charms Eustace performed, actually."

Startled from her reverie, Hermione opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then closed it and continued to climb the steps, deep in thought.

It was not until the two women went into the bedroom – white and as fresh-scented as the rest of the house – that Hermione decided to speak.

"Forgive me if I sound intrusive, Adele," she formulated slowly, "but there's something I wish to ask you. Since I entered into your house, I could not perceive any magic. The photos at your wall are Muggle pictures: they don't move. There are no magical wards, or charms, no magical items, nothing. The magic sent out by Gobstones is almost imperceptible, except when they spit. In short, a Muggle could come here without recognising it's a house inhabited by wizards."

"Uh-uhm," nodded Adele. "Yes, that's true. We made a point of living like Muggles after the war."

"But why?" Hermione almost yelled, despite herself. "Why?"

"I suppose it would be hard for you, as a heroine for the wizarding world, to understand our choice," said Adele softly. "Mmh. How can I explain it to you?"

The older woman sat on the edge of the bed, and Hermione sat beside her. "Let's see: we witnessed the horrors magic could produce, and we didn't want to be part of that anymore. It's like your vegetarianism."

"Magic is not bad." Hermione trembled as she said that.

"Neither is meat. Animals eat other animals; it's a law of nature. But you consciously decided not to eat it anymore. I acknowledge your reasons for choosing vegetarianism, but you probably recognise that a good steak is tasty and tempting. We know magic can do some good, but it can also do harm. We, Eustace and I, willingly abstain from performing magic, as you refrain from eating meat."

Adele paused while Hermione reflected. Then she continued, "Of course, watching Severus' admirable efforts to live without magic gave strength to our decision."

"But he told me you were performing some magic." Hermione's voice cracked with emotion. "He told me of the Entrancing Enchantment you cast at Jorvik. How can you perform magic outside and not in your own home?"

Adele's brow furrowed perplexingly. "There is no such Enchantment at Jorvik," she said, nonplussed.

"No? Didn't you help to create a few of the rooms at the exhibition?"

"We did, as interior designers. But why would we cast an Entrancing Enchantment in Jorvik Centre? The Ministry of Magic would never allow a Charm to be cast on a Muggle attraction. We would be at the mercy of Improper Use of Magic Office by now."

"Ah." Right. "So you just designed the place."

"Eustace and I were wizarding architects before the war and turned to interior designers when we went Muggle. It took us a while to use set squares that wouldn't calculate measures by themselves, but eventually we adapted." Adele smiled and gestured around with a proud look on her face. "We designed this house, too."

"It really gives a summer sensation."

"Indeed. White is my favourite colour."

I would never have guessed.

"Severus can come up with such stupid jokes sometimes!" Adele wrinkled her nose in an amused snort. "An Entrancing Enchantment at Jorvik! I must tell it to Eustace."

"Er... please don't, Adele. I must have misunderstood."

"It's never clear whether he says something in jest, or in earnest. That's just how he is."

You bet. A series of little clues were lining up in her mind, like Hop-o'-My-Thumb's crumbs of bread.

At four, Hermione and Severus were outside of the Boddingtons' front door. The day was still bright, and the sky was clear, but the wind blew cold. Shuddering, Hermione put on her cotton cardigan while Snape held her bag.

"Thank you," she said as her hand came out from the sleeve to take back her bag.

"Uhm," he nodded in return. "They said I'm not playing a good amphitryon to you, Miss Granger. Do you want to go for a digestive walk? Is there something you wish to see?"

"Mmh, let me see." She reflected for a moment. "Yes. There is a place I'd like to visit. Hopefully it's still open. Let me guide you for once."

They passed by All Saints Church and walked along Coney Street, still busy with people who were shopping. Snape stopped to show her the Guildhall and they went in for a minute, to see a plaque commemorating Richard III's commitment to the city.

The plaque called Richard the 'most famous prince of blessed memory'. Hermione looked at the man at her side, deep in contemplation of the carved, wooden board. She felt more relaxed, there with him in a public space, than she had been at the Boddingtons'. Conversation was more fluent. In the open, they were alone together, in the unreal bubble that was taking shape again. She took a step closer.

"On the wheel? Do you have a screw loose, Granger?" barked Snape when Hermione pointed to the big wheel on the opposite bank of the river Ouse.

"I've wanted to go there since I arrived in York." Hermione grinned with shining eyes.

"But it's an eyesore! A theme park tat! A garish knick-knack for tourists!" he snarled, exasperated.

"Please. I know you are afraid of heights. But you told me not to yield to avoidance tricks, didn't you? There's nothing to fear. I will be there with you."

"I told you also not to provide reassurances on irrational fears. If I didn't, I'm telling you now," he grunted.

"Oh, come on," she said, moving on to cross Lendal Bridge.

He had to capitulate, for she heard his steps behind her, a minute later.

To be admitted to the wheel, visitors had to go through the National Railway Museum first. It was not a place Hermione was particularly interested in, but the steam locomotives on display reminded her of the Hogwarts Express, and the connected excitement she felt at every start of term. Snape grumbled that it was a place only someone like Arthur Weasley would like, all the while continuing to follow her. Eventually, through his protests, they reached the entrance to the wheel.

There were only a few visitors when they got into the pod assigned them. A few moments after the door closed, the pod rocked slightly and started to climb. Slowly, the York skyline appeared in front of them, from the train station to the treetops of the Museum Gardens, up to the Minster's front, with its two decorated towers.

Snape had fallen silent since they entered the pod. He sat casually, apparently enjoying the view, but Hermione could tell that his calm was but a façade. However, sure that suffering the ascent would do him good, she refused to surrender to his repressed nervousness. She gave him a warm smile, then abandoned to the peaceful sensation of being carried up, up, up, and then down, down, down.

However, what was pleasant for her didn't evidently feel the same for Severus. As the wheel started its second rotation, Snape stood up and drew closer to the glass wall, looking down as the ground grew farther away.

"Do you feel dizzy?" asked Hermione with a wavering voice. Averting his eyes from her, Snape shook his head, as his lips quirked in a fleeting smile.

She got up as well and came to his side. Silently, she stood beside him, her right arm brushing against Severus' left sleeve, until the wheel's revolution reached its highest point. Then it stopped to allow the best sightseeing, while the pod swayed gently on its pivot.

"Yes," she said softly. "It's a..." She began the sentence, but suddenly didn't know what to say, so she simply repeated, "Yes". Gently, she reclined her head over Snape's shoulder. It fitted perfectly under her ear.

She could feel his body tense for a moment, and when he breathed out, a little later, she knew that he must have been holding his breath. With a tiny squeak, the wheel resumed its spin downward.

Snape's heavy breath through his nostrils was the only sound she perceived. A deeper sigh, and he brought his arm behind her back, placing his hand on her left shoulder. Hermione's head slid slightly forward, between his collarbone and his jaw-line, while her side rested against his black-shirted chest. She pressed her cheek against the shirt collar, the smooth fabric stroking her skin, as she slipped her arm around his waist, sensing the flesh under her palm, beneath the soft cloth.

They stood in silence during the wheel's third revolution, looking at the city straight in front of them, holding each other tightly side by side while the sky's azure became deeper and the yellow of the Minster's walls turned darker.

"Hermione! We didn't expect you today. Did something happen?"

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "Nothing, Mother. I just wanted to greet you and to give this to Dad," she replied, showing a bag from the National Railway Museum.

"Ah, good. But why such elegance? The cornflower blue dress, two-inch heels shoes... Did you go somewhere?"

"I was invited for lunch at a posh house," explained Hermione, entering the living room and looking around. "Crookshanks? Where are you?"

"Last time I saw him, he was in the back garden with your father," said Jean Granger. "Did you eat well?"

"Wonderfully. This couple, the Boddingtons, they are wizards, but live like Muggles. I met them at the Jorvik Centre. Do you remember? I told you of that place." Minus the Severus part.

"Ah, right. Well, do you want something to eat for dinner or was the lunch enough?"

"I'm full, Mum, really. Thank you. But I'd like a cup of tea."

"Sure, dear."

While her mother stepped to the kitchen, Hermione headed to the back garden. Her father was sitting on a deckchair, reading a book under the garden lamp. Old Crookshanks was curled on his tummy, in the exact position where his weight would feel heavier. As soon as the half-Kneazle noticed her, he jumped off his comfortable seat – making her father cry, "Ouch!" and turn – and trotted to Hermione's feet, rubbing against her ankles. Then he held out his forepaws at her knees, requesting to be picked up. Hermione took the cat in her arms and moved closer to her father.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to give you this, Dad," she said, kissing him on the cheek and handing him the bag. "I went to a train museum this afternoon."

"Why, thank you, dear," said Mr. Granger, observing the little model train Hermione had bought for him. "That's very nice. How are things going at your library?"

Crookshanks climbed on her shoulder, tenderly digging his claws in her back. "Everything is fine at the moment," she replied, leaving aside the job proposal. "I had a beautiful day."

"Great. Are you staying for the evening?"

"No more than a couple of hours. I want to go back to York for the night."

"All right. We could watch a film together, then."

Sitting before the television, between her mum and dad, Hermione kept stroking Crookshanks' fur absent-mindedly, lost in reverie.

Had he said something, that afternoon? Probably he did, because she didn't remember him staying quiet, except for the few minutes – ages? – they had spent on the wheel. But when she returned home, she didn't remember any of his words in particular, as she usually did, a sign perhaps that she was indeed getting older, or that he was capable of speaking in a forgettable way, sometimes, or rather that there was nothing important to say. The specific words had gone; all she remembered was the warm force emanating from her, and that was actually still with her, surrounding her like a light-made skin. She remembered the softness of his waist squeezed under her fingers, and the shape of his shoulder bones under her temple. She remembered the heat surging in her breast as it pressed against Severus' side. The touch of his fingers on her shoulder. Did she really need to remember his words? Her conversation hadn't stood out in brilliance, either.

With a finger, she traced little spirals on her pillow, Crookshanks' soft purr coming to her mind before she would fall into a peaceful slumber.

A/N: This chapter features one major poetic license, as the Yorkshire Wheel, after carrying almost a million visitors, was dismantled in November 2008 and still has to be relocated somewhere. I hope you will accept my decision to let it stay next to the National Railway Museum in August 2009. I wanted Severus and Hermione to go there ;)

'Eyesore' and 'theme park tat' are definitions I found in the comments to this article www.yorkpress.co.uk/news/8715738.Big_wheel_set_to_return_to_York/

My deepest gratitude to Pink Raccoon for her warm support during the writing of this chapter, and to Valady and RobisonRocket for correcting it.