Acceptance

It was positively unnerving to Severus that, try as he might, he couldn't seem to truly intimidate or scare Granger and Potter anymore. Whenever he tried, they at best looked mildly offended and at worst looked amused.

But after denial comes anger, and after anger comes depression, and after depression comes bargaining, and after bargaining comes acceptance.

Severus really, really hadn't wanted to accept. Did not want to be beholden to anyone, ever, especially Potter. He hated himself for accepting it. Told himself it wasn't really for him, not a gift to him, but for the children, and they really needed it.

For the greater good, Albus would have said.

Severus couldn't help but think of another expression that typically came to mind whenever he thought of Albus Dumbledore.

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Gryffindors. Cannot help but try to save the world. Even if it means ruining it in the process.

With briefest hesitation he had tied the scroll to the owl and sent it on its way. This wouldn't be the first time he made a deal with the devil to satisfy a higher calling. Perhaps it would finally be the last.

-----------------

Ginny had been thrilled at the prospect of leaving Grimmauld Place; as soon as Harry had got the words out of his mouth, Ginny's hand was on his and she was pulling him out of the door to go house hunting.

"Severus is coming over to look at the house, though," he had protested to Ginny.

"Oh... right. Even better. I support what you're doing, but I don't think I'm quite ready to face him yet. Especially given how hard I worked against him that last year of the war. And, well, I really want out of this house. Come on."

Harry laughed. "I guess I can ask Hermione to show him around." A quick exchange of letters confirmed that Hermione would be happy to show Snape around the house and answer any questions.

"If we miss him," Ginny said as they left that night, "give him our best."

"You know he'll be glad to hear it," Hermione said sarcastically. With a couple of kisses and hugs, the Potters left.

Hermione answered the door at Severus's knock and caught the briefest glimpse of surprise in his eyes when he saw her. "Granger," he said brusquely.

"Severus." She stood back and opened the door wider. He crossed the threshold quickly. "And please call me Hermione."

He did not respond to her but merely stopped short just inside the doorway, taking in the view. It had been close to ten years since he had last been in here, Hermione reckoned. He tilted his head all around, taking in all the changes that had occurred since then.

"It looks very different in here," he said at last.

She nodded. "Ginny thought it would be more livable if it were redecorated...lighter walls, wider corridors, brighter colours, electric lights, no mounted heads of decapitated house-elves, you get the idea."

"Indeed," he mused. "I might have to transfigure the walls darker and the lights dimmer, for a little while at least. Light... well, they're not used to it."

Hermione nodded, sadly. She wanted to ask more, but decided against it. "Shall I lead you around? I know you've been here many times before, but Harry and Ginny did make quite a few changes and you might want to be sure it'll suit your purposes."

Snape nodded absently and walked slowly throughout the house. There were just as many bedrooms as there had been in the past (nine) and just as many bathrooms (four). The attic was still pretty useless but, as Hermione pointed out, could easily be transfigured into something if necessary...living space, a classroom, an infirmary, whatever. Same with the cellar.

"Granger, you might have gone into home sales," Snape finally said wryly. "You are doing your best to sell this place to me."

"I just... I think it has real potential."

"It does," he said simply, then raised an eyebrow to her. "Potter really doesn't want it anymore?"

Hermione shook her head and began to recite the story she and Harry had agreed upon. The both knew it would be a bad idea to tell him the real reason Harry had offered the house. He would reject both it and them if he knew. She just hoped that she could lie well enough to fool him, fully prepared to Occlude him if necessary.

"Their family is growing, Harry has some unpleasant memories here, Ginny doesn't really like it. They could sell it, but they don't really want anyone knowing about the location and they certainly don't need the money. And, well, I think he would feel like he was betraying Sirius if he sold it to a stranger."

Snape flinched at the sound of Sirius Black's name but quickly recovered and nodded in acknowledgement. Hermione couldn't tell if he bought what she was saying, but decided to continue speaking. "With regards to the deed, Harry is happy to transfer it over to you, but for the sake of your anonymity he's willing to keep it in his name. He won't turn you or anyone else out, of course. Just say the word and the papers will be transferred into your name."

"It would be best," Snape interrupted, "if Potter were to keep it in his own name. For now, at least. I wish to draw as little official attention to this endeavour as possible."

Walking back down to the entryway, he withdrew his wand and cast a series of complex wand movements and nonverbal spells.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making sure that there are no enchantments or spells in this house that I should be aware of. I seem to remember there being quite a lot. And Potter..."

"Harry didn't booby-trap the house for you, Severus, he does live here himself."

"Constant vigilance," he muttered. Satisfied with what his spells seemed to reveal, he returned his wand.

"So... you'll take it?" Hermione asked brightly.

"Pushy, aren't you, Granger?"

"Hermione. And what sort of estate agent would I be if I didn't push for the sale?" She gave a sarcastic smile.

A second later, the sound of a loud crack of Apparition behind her made her scream, turn around, and point her wand.

Kreacher stood there shaking his head and muttering insults to himself as he gave a bow and walked away.

"Don't move, Granger," Snape whispered theatrically. "It can smell fear." Hermione rolled her eyes and sheathed her wand again, making a sound of frustration. "Does he come with the house?"

"Unfortunately."

Snape looked at her thoughtfully. "You seem a bit jumpy, Granger."

"Hermione. And I'm not jumpy. I'm alert."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever ridiculous euphemism you wish to use."

She gave him a sharp look and echoed his words from a few moments earlier. "Constant vigilance."

He gave her a smirk. "Potter said that you live here too?"

Hermione nodded. "Part time, whenever I'm in London. I stay in the corner bedroom up on the first floor."

"I would have thought that you lot would have outgrown this unhealthy codependency."

"It's not codependency!" Hermione snapped, offended. "That's trivialising it. We're all very close. Harry and I have no other family, so we sort of adopted each other very early on. And we've stayed close."

"Very close," he said, his voice insinuating something.

"Oh come off it," Hermione said, ignoring his implication that she was fairly certain was designed only to bait her. "Close relationships between friends are perfectly healthy." She thought about adding, "And you might try it sometime," but wisely decided against it. She knew that he had tried and had failed to form a closer relationship with his closest friend and why he most likely would never try again.

"I presume Weasley stays here too?" Snape asked nonchalantly.

Hermione shook her head. "Not often. He lives in Diagon Alley but spends a lot of time with his family. His mother's been very shaken ever since his brother... well, he helps take care of her, so no, he doesn't come here often." She thought she saw a flicker of surprise and then relief in Snape's eye, but it was so quick she was sure she had imagined it. George was the twin he felt responsible for, not Fred, and yes, she knew he knew the difference.

"Anyway," she continued. "You needn't worry about us; I'll vacate the room with plenty of time for you."

His brow furrowed. "I did not wish to evict you. Potter offered the space, not you."

She waved him off. "It will be put to much better use."

He looked away from her for a moment and seemed to be considering something. Finally, in a very measured voice, he said, "It might be advisable for you to keep your room here. As you have seen, I sometimes need to be away in the evenings, and it is not advisable to leave the children completely alone if possible."

She blinked. He would trust her with these children? He had no reason to. A normal person would, but not him. Her confusion must have registered on her face for he continued, "You did offer to help. And I do not intend to leave them with you right away. Even I have to grudgingly admit that you were right...they do need more socialization, and it would probably be advisable if you were one of the people they got to know and trust."

Hermione held her breath. He had never paid her a compliment before. Ever. Not when she had written flawless essays, not when she had crafted perfect potions, not when she had been made a prefect, not ever. It felt unnatural. And just a teensy bit nice.

"I appreciate you trusting me," she said finally. She knew that trust was not something he handed out easily. She only wondered what she had done to deserve it.

Snape merely nodded.

------------------

Severus wasn't sure what made him ask her to stay, to not move out of the house when he and the children would move in. It wasn't fear; he knew he could handle the children by himself, he had done so for years. He also knew he could leave the children alone for a few hours at a time; he did it regularly and always left a Patronus to alert him if there was anything immediately requiring his attention.

He wasn't entirely sure he ever would leave her alone with them when he left, at least not right away. But it couldn't hurt to prepare for the distant future, even if he did not believe it would reach that point.

He really didn't want to ask her for help on top of accepting Potter's offer of the house. But, while he would never, ever, admit it to her, Potter, or anyone else, he truly needed help. Sixteen years as Head of Slytherin and one year as Headmaster combined were less stressful than five years of being the caretaker for some very traumatised, abused, and neglected children.

It had become virtually impossible for him to believe that anyone, including Potter and Granger, could be sympathetic toward their plight. But it seemed like--just as it had been back at Hogwarts--whatever he threw at them failed to stick and they remained insufferably naïve and idealistic. Well, maybe not as bad as they had been before the war. There was more realism there, more practicality. The slightest (only the slightest) bit of wisdom that comes only to those who have lived through the darkest of times.

So he had probed, considered, tested, relented, and finally accepted. If I am going to continue to do this, I might as well do it right from this point onward. Get others involved. Teach the children not to fear others. Retain healthy suspicion, but not paranoia. Most of them were Slytherins, or would be. Slytherins do not live in fear. Slytherins prepare.

He would never trust Potter, not completely. True, Potter had clearly resisted the urge to make public the content of the memories that he foolishly shown him. And Potter had not hounded him for friendship or discourse in the years since the war beyond the few letters he had sent in that first year, respected his privacy, and not tried to seek him out. Potter had even given him the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Potter had been remarkably generous, Severus had to admit. That still did not mean Severus liked him. Or completely trusted him.

Granger... that was a different story. Sure, she was still just as insufferable as she had been in her youth. And he had legitimately worried that this was merely another ill-conceived crusade, as her House-Elf Liberation Front or whatever it had been called had been. But he had grudgingly been impressed with her ability to successfully change laws and attitudes with regard to the creatures. It had likely involved lots of negotiations and discussions. Granger was never one for negotiating, not in the past, anyway. She had been ever the bull-headed Gryffindor, convinced that she alone could change the world.

But she had been honest with him. Few others ever had. She had not Occluded him when he had scanned her thoughts. She had thought this through. Done her homework. As always.

Deep down, Severus had always known it would only be a matter of time before he could no longer do this effectively on his own. With the "graduates" of the orphanage getting into more trouble every day, it took more energy out of him to try to attend to everyone, and there simply were not enough hours in the day to do it all. He knew it was terribly Gryffindorish of him, trying to save all these children all on his own, shouldering the burden completely. But he was still a Slytherin, the Slytherins' Slytherin, and had at least had the self-awareness to know what a fool's errand it had become.

The sound of Granger's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Apparently she had been talking for some time.

"...so they most likely think they will need at least a month to clear out, but then again we suspect it will likely take about that long for you to be appointed guardian anyway," she was saying. "But then again, you will also likely need time to change the place as necessary to suit your needs."

She looked at him expectantly, apparently waiting for a response from him.

"I am sure that there will be plenty of time to sort everything," he said finally. "What will take the most time, and be most important, is preparing them for the move."

Granger nodded. "It will be a big change for them, won't it?"

He nodded. "Many of them are unprepared for life outside the dungeon of the orphanage. Many who leave are not seen or heard from again, at least not by them. It will be difficult to move them here without a few panic attacks."

He mustered all his self-control to force his face to stay calm and expressionless. No need to betray his fear for them, or for himself, to Granger. No need for weakness in front of her or anyone else.

"I had planned to keep the groups of siblings together and then otherwise split them up two to a room by gender," Severus said, changing the subject. He took a seat on a settee in the sitting room and pulled out a piece of parchment on which he had written a list of names.

"That's probably not a bad idea," Granger said, taking the seat next to him. "How many sibling groups are there?"

"Four. Two Rosiers, Leopold and Ermengarde; three Averys, Ambrose, Cadence, and Vanessa; two Lestranges..."

"Bellatrix had children?" Granger asked, horrified.

"No, these were Rabastan's children. Libra and Pavo."

"Oh." Granger visibly relaxed, and with good reason. The idea of Bella having offspring... he was grateful hers had been a marriage of convenience.

"And two Travers, Ramona and Raleigh. That's nine of them. Then there are Thaddeus Mulciber, the two Carrow cousins-slash-siblings..."

"You mean Amicus and Alecto..."

Severus grimaced. "Yes."

"Disgusting."

"But not surprising?"

"I suppose not."

Granger visibly shuddered as Severus continued to make his way through the list.

"Ariadne and Antioch Carrow; Sergei Dolohov, Margaret Macnair, and Henry Jugson."

"So you have four boys and two girls, three rooms. That works out nicely."

"So we need seven bedrooms total, one large enough to hold three," Severus said.

"It might be a bit crowded but I think we can make it work." Granger said. "There are nine bedrooms here; we're bound to figure something out."

------------------

They walked quietly through the house again. The first floor held the master bedroom that Severus would eventually take as well as the library. Hermione's room was also on the first floor, along with the bathroom. She offered to move to another room in case some of the orphans needed closer proximity to him, and he shook his head, simply saying that it was not necessary. The second floor had four bedrooms and a bathroom, where the Travers, Rosier, and Lestrange siblings would go as well as Nott and Antioch Carrow in one room. The third floor, which had three bedrooms, including the largest one, would hold the three Rowles, Ariadne Carrow and Margaret Macnair in another room, and Dolohov and Avey in another room. He decided to withhold judgment on the best use for the attic. Since the space was not immediately needed, he though it might be better to see what needs might present themselves after the move.

Hermione was certain that she saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes when he mentioned how difficult it would be for the children to leave what had been home for most of their lives. That was as close to open as he probably got around everyone. He either trusted her, or it weighed that heavily on his mind.

Who was she kidding, it was the latter. It would consume the mind of even the strongest person, and Snape was probably one of the strongest people she had ever met.

"Well," she said finally. "We'll just have to do what we can to make the transition easier. I had thought... well, Muggles have lots of books on the subject. About abused and neglected children, how to bring them back, how to relax them and get them to trust. I mean, let's face it, the Wizarding world is not exactly..."

"Progressive when it comes to mental health," Snape finished for her. She knew he, like her, was thinking of Neville's parents. And Gilderoy Lockhart. Wasting away their lives in a locked room, trapped in their own minds, their ailments low on the priorities list.

"Anyway, I could easily procure some, if you thought it might be helpful," she said hesitantly, then added quickly, "Not, of course, that I think you haven't done a brilliant job already, and you could probably write a book on it yourself, and probably you know all there is to know anyway, maybe you've already read the very books I've talked about, I just thought..."

"Granger, slow down, breathe. I think it is perhaps not a bad idea. I would welcome any resources you can think of."

Hermione relaxed and gave him a small smile. Why had she been babbling? She only babbled when she was nervous. Was she nervous? Why on earth would she be nervous? Remembering herself, she replied, "Right, well, I'll make sure I get them to you."

"It would probably be advisable to start consulting them soon," he said.

She knew what he was really asking. "I will try to get them to you by the end of the week."

Snape nodded. Hermione supposed that this passed as a thank-you for him.

"Severus..." Hermione said slowly, debating whether or not she should finish the sentence. When he looked at her quizzically, she decided the die was cast and that she might as well. "I'm really glad you're the one who's been helping them. I think they're all very lucky that they have someone who cares about them."

He blinked, met her eyes for a moment, then looked away. "I have an obligation," was all he said.

Hermione knew that she had been right, at least initially...that Snape had felt responsible for the deaths of their parents and, like Harry, had felt obligated to care for them. Still... Snape had never held Harry in the middle of the night and consoled him the way he had with Miss Rookwood. Had never set up protective charms to keep people away from him the way he had at the orphanage. No, it could not merely be obligation that kept him going. Obligation allowed him to separate his mind from his heart, and he had done so for years with Harry. He had trained his mind on protecting him while reserving his heart for Lily. Here, it was plain as day to her, and to Harry, that he truly cared about these children.

Knowing better than to call him out on it, Hermione merely said, "Well, you are the kind of man who takes his obligations very seriously, and so much the better for them." She tried to convey what she truly meant in her tone rather than her words.

He looked at her again. Their eyes met, for only a moment. Hermione was struck by just how... deep they were. She could read something in them, something faint and fleeting. They seemed to say, You get it.

They heard the sound of a key in the door, and Hermione released the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

"I see you're both still here!" Harry said with a smile on his face. He had is arm around Ginny, who smiled politely but Hermione could tell she was tense. This was, after all, the first time she and Snape had been in the same room at the same time since his year as Headmaster.

"Find anything interesting?" Hermione asked, accepting a hug from each of them.

"Maybe," Ginny said. "Good evening Professor Snape," she said in a suddenly stilted voice.

"Mrs. Potter." Snape stood and spoke stiffly.

"I hope you're well." Ginny's face was a mask of politeness that she reserved only for situations where she felt very awkward.

"Very well. I hope you are too," Snape replied, every word clearly forced.

"Won't you stay for dinner?" Ginny asked in an unnaturally high voice and rather more quickly than normal. She was doing a terrible job of feigning enthusiasm.

The rest of the exchange passed quite rapidly and far too formally.

"No, I cannot stay."

"Pity. Some other time then."

"Perhaps. Good evening, Potter, Granger, Mrs. Potter." Without another word he was out the door.

"Whew," Ginny said, shrugging and leaning into Harry after the door slammed shut.

"'Won't you stay for dinner?' 'Pity, some other time, then'? Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" Harry teased.

----------------

Even though he had reluctantly accepted the gift of the house and the help from the Gryffindors, something still nagged at Severus. Namely, the voice in the back of his head, the one that kept telling him, They will want something from you for this. And you will not be able to give it. And they will take it all away.

Yes, it was possible that they truly did want to help these children for purely altruistic reasons. And true, it was an offer he had to accept on their behalf. He was in no position to turn it away or negotiate, a position he positively hated to be in. But he still could not put off the possibility that they had something up their sleeves.

Namely, what did they expect from him in return for their generosity? And when payment came due, would he be able to give them what they wanted?

What if he couldn't?

No one would ever do anything for you unless there was a percentage in it for them, the voice admonished.

In Severus's experience, gifts like this never came without strings attached. As his father had been fond of saying, "There is no free lunch."

He had surreptitiously attempted to perform Legilimency on Granger again, but this time he could tell she was Occluding him in some way. Potter... there was no way he could get into Potter's head without him realising it immediately. Potter's mind did things to Severus. Made him feel emotions that he otherwise kept locked tightly in a box in the back of his mind. And wouldn't that cock up the whole thing, for Potter to be aware of Severus's prying and revoke his generous offer?

They said now that they only wanted to help. If he didn't know better, he would have called it gratuitous. People just don't do gratuitous, Severus thought. Not for them, and especially not for me. It didn't add up. He would get to the bottom of this.

Others had demanded much more from him after offering much less.

---------------

I've definitely taken some liberties with the layout of Grimmauld Place (namely, I'm fairly certain I doubled the number of bedrooms).

Coming up: Hermione oversteps a boundary.