The Shrieking Shack

Chapter 4

The Shrieking Shack

Disclaimer: Whose? Hers.

* * *

What do you do when the world comes crashing down on your head, suddenly, finally, in one of the ways you knew it might?

The silent spell takes almost everything you have left, but it works. There's a wand under your fingers, and it's slippery, like your own ebbing intention, but you put both together for an instant and think Congresco and then you don't think anything more.

* * *

Ginny dropped Hermione's hand and stepped forward to kneel opposite her mother at Fred's side. Ron and Percy had their arms wrapped around each other, and Percy was shaking with sobs, as was Fleur, in Bill's arms.

Hermione twisted her hands, feeling suddenly alone on the margins of the Weasleys' grief. Eyes blurred with tears, she looked away...right at the bright pink splash of Tonks's hair on the stone floor. Tonks's hand was almost touching Lupin's as he lay beside her.

A sob escaped Hermione's throat. Dead, dead. Teddy an orphan, just like that. She moved away from the knot of Weasleys and crouched beside Tonks. She looked so small and cold. Could she and Lupin not have a blanket to lie on, at least? Hermione reached into her pocket for her wand.

It was not there.

She leapt to her feet and began patting her clothes and digging into her other pockets. Not there, or there, or there, or anywhere!

When had she last had it out? In the shack, when she'd conjured the flask for Harry. Then... Voldemort's voice had sounded across the grounds, taunting Harry to come out, and they'd all scurried towards the tunnel, and surely she had pocketed her wand...

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Accio wand! She opened her eyes and waited... waited...

Nothing. ACCIO WAND! And... wait... Still nothing.

Damn it. She must be too far from the wand, or too upset to do wandless magic. She would have to retrace her steps.

She looked at the Weasleys. Every single one of them was crying, either quietly or loudly. Ron, with one arm still around Percy, was now clinging to Fleur as well, and weeping openly. Hermione's heart pounded painfully. She couldn't interrupt. And... well, she'd be gone and back before she was even missed.

Looking around, she saw Luna hurrying up to the dais with infirmary supplies. 'Luna!' she called, waving her over. 'Luna. I need to go and... find something. If Ron's looking for me, tell him I'll be back here in, in about twenty minutes or so, okay?'

'Yes, of course. Shall I come with you?'

'No, no, please,' she waved Luna on towards the dais. 'You keep... doing what you're doing. I'll be right back.'

She ran. Out of the hall and past the signs of battle strewn across the floor of the entrance, and into the black, black night.

The Whomping Willow was still frozen, and she wriggled into the passage for the second time that night and began crawling forwards in the dark. 'Accio wand!' she shouted into the tunnel.

Nothing. She was beginning to panic a little. Was her wand not coming because she was anxious and couldn't focus her intention without it? Or was she wrong about where she'd dropped it?

She swept her hand before her in the darkness as she crawled, berating herself all the while. Should have let Luna come with me, or Summon it for me. Should have borrowed a wand. Should have told someone where I was going. Ill-conceived in every way...

The tunnel was beginning to slope upwards. She stopped, and breathed in and out to calm her mind. Then she tried again, reaching out her hand. 'Accio wand!'

And oh! The feeling when her wand flew into her hand and she wrapped her fingers around it!

Actually, rather a sticky feeling...

'Lumos!' she said, and in the light she examined the wand. It was half-covered in something... blood.

Snape's blood.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. 'Tergeo,' she muttered, and his blood was gone.

Except it wasn't. It was all over the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Her thoughts flashed to the dead in the Great Hall. Shouldn't she...? But she didn't have the time to Levitate his body all the way back, and, anyway, should she? He was an enemy. A bad man. But the thought of him lying alone in a shambles of dust and blood was just... unbearable somehow.

Up ahead of her, a lighter patch in the darkness showed where the tunnel emerged into the shack.

She had to do something. Clean up a bit. Fold his hands, that kind of thing. Thirty seconds' work. She could spare thirty seconds to be decent.

She scrambled forwards and pushed into the room where he lay, half on his side. Her wandlight swept over his pale face with its mercifully closed eyes. The light glinted off the dark pool under his head. She pointed her wand. 'Tergeo,' she whispered, and the pool disappeared. She knelt beside him and pointed her wand at his blood-soaked hair and clothing. 'Scourgify.'

The horrible wounds in his throat were clean for a moment, but blood started trickling out again almost immediately. God, how could he have any left to lose?

Wait. Why is blood flowing out of there? That's on the top of his body, shouldn't gravity be pulling it down under...

She flicked her eyes back to his face. Why...? Had Harry closed Snape's eyes before he left? Because they'd been open as he died, she was sure of it.

Reflexively, she reached for his hand. Warm. Oh god. She laid her fingers over his wrist... was it...? A pulse? She put her face right down in his and felt on her cheek the merest thready wisp of breath leaving his nostrils.

'Oh god!' she said out loud. 'Ohgodohgod. Professor Snape, it's me, Hermione Granger. We thought you were dead. You're not dead!'

He didn't move. The blood was running down his neck, forming another little puddle on the floor. She must have ripped the clot out with her cleaning spell. 'Episkey!' she said, and the mangled flesh tried to close itself but couldn't. She needed a clotting spell... oh, what was it... oh, right. 'Congresco!' she said, and the blood thickened and slowed, then stopped.

Now he was in only slightly worse condition than she'd found him in. She looked at her watch, screeched, and scrambled to her feet. Nearly half of the hour of Voldemort's truce had gone.

She stared down at her teacher, feeling impossibly pulled in two directions, and utterly out of time.

How will I get him out of here? How can I save him? If she took him back to the castle...well, would he survive the trip? And would he be safe there, among so many people who hated him? She couldn't stay with him, there was no time, she needed to get back to Harry and Ron. Soon they would be fighting again. Think! Think!

Then she had it, the outline of a plan slamming together in her mind.

It might work; it was certainly the best she could do until... well, until whatever was going to happen tonight played itself out. I'll deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes, she thought, if I live that long.

'Winky!' she said firmly to the air. 'Come here.' There was a crack and the little squash-nosed elf stood before her.

Hermione got back down on her knees so her face was level with Winky's. 'Winky,' she began. 'Winky!' She grabbed the elf's shoulder and shook her slightly. 'Look at me, not at him. Good.' She drew a deep breath to calm herself. 'Winky. The Headmaster needs your help. Listen carefully.'

* * *

What do you do when you have felt your world teetering on a knife's edge for as long as you've been in it?

For a little while, you keep going. Because who could stop, after running for so long?

* * *

Harry was alive. Voldemort was dead. Bottomless relief, ferocious joy, and a flood of tears hit Hermione all at once. She and Ron got to Harry first, and the three of them stood there hugging and crying and unable to form any words at all for a long, long while.

When she could bear to relinquish Harry to the others who crowded around him, she and Ron turned to each other and hugged like they'd never let go, and he kissed her long and sweetly and held her face in his hands and looked at her with such raw devotion that she had to burrow her head into his chest. She knew that same look was on her face, too, and it was hard to bear so much happiness, and so much of everything all at once. So they just stood, wrapped around each other, for another while.

Then...and she could feel it happen in his body...he remembered Fred.

They walked over to his family...only a few steps, and another round of smiles and embraces and wordless teary-eyed looks, but time had started again. She looked around. There was work to do.

She squeezed Ron's hand and let it go. 'I have something I need to check on. I'll be back in twenty or thirty minutes.'

'Shall I come with you?' he asked.

Oh, yes, please, I'm afraid of what I'll find. 'No, you stay with...' she gestured around to his family '...stay here. They'll need you, and I won't be long.'

'Can't it wait, Mione? There's Death Eaters still about; wait until the Aurors get here and secure the place.'

'It can't wait, and don't worry...I won't be roaming around outside at all. Go...Ron, your mother wants you, look.' Hermione pointed. Molly Weasley was beckoning to her youngest son. Hermione kissed him quickly, then ran out of the Great Hall, wand drawn.

There was a little cloakroom outside the Great Hall, and when Hermione ducked in there, it was empty. She walked around the room peering under tables and twitching aside tapestries until she was sure she was alone.

For a few seconds, she stood before the window. The vault of the sky was luminous grey and pinkish at the edge with the beginnings of dawn. Closer to the earth it was smoky. Things were burning. She would think about that next, maybe. Not yet. She closed her eyes and said, 'Kreacher!'

Nothing.

'Kreacher!'

She stamped her foot. Stupid, BIGOTED elf! 'Kreacher! Come here now! It's for the Headmaster!'

Kreacher cracked in and stood glaring up at her from under his warty brows. 'Miss... is wanting Kreacher?'

'Yes. Kreacher. I need you to Apparate me to the Shrieking Shack. Do you know how to get there?'

'Oh, Kreacher knows, Kreacher knows, Miss. But can't Miss... walk? It is near.' He smiled with some condescension. It was ghastly...it made him look more than ever like something out of a child's nightmare. 'Kreacher is needed in the...'

'Kreacher is needed in the Shrieking Shack, and so is Miss, because that is where the Headmaster is, and he is hurt and he needs our help.' She grabbed his hand, ignoring his flinch. 'The Shack. Now.'

Grey light leaked into the room from one unshuttered window. The patch of floor where she'd left Snape was empty. Where was he? Then she saw that Winky had managed to move him to the bed. This was either a good sign or a very bad one. Winky was in a chair beside the bed.

'Oh, Miss Hermione, I is so glad to see you. Come!'

Hermione moved to the bedside. 'How is he? When did you move him? Is he...'

She stopped speaking and grabbed at the back of Winky's chair. For a moment, there was a roaring in her ears and her scalp prickled and her flesh seemed to go cold from the inside, and she just swayed there.

The fit...or whatever it might be called...passed, like they always did, leaving her clammy and panting, and feeling like she wanted to cry her broken heart out. She realised that she was staring at Snape's face, drawn and thin on a brocade pillow, and that Winky was talking.

'...like you said, Miss Hermione. Madam Pomfrey didn't mind at all, she gave Winky all the supplies you told Winky to get...the blood replenisher and the tincture of bezoar and the dittany and wound cleanser and, you can see, Winky put some bandages on, too, to keep all clean. The Shack,' she looked around worriedly and dropped her voice as if to avoid offending the building, 'the Shack is being very dirty, Miss. Winky is spelling twelve pounds of dust out of the bedclothes before moving the Headmaster!' She pointed to a little heap in the corner of the room.

'But how is he?' Hermione asked, staring. Snape's face was waxen. A bulky white bandage enveloped his neck and left shoulder; his shirt was gone, a sheet pulled up over his chest. So pale and thin, she thought. That little knob on his collarbone... Her hand was halfway to touching it when she realised what she was doing and snatched it back.

Winky wrung her hands. 'Alive, Miss. No more bleeding. Just... sleeping, so very deep. And fever, but Winky thinks it is less now.'

Hermione reached out and touched his cheek. It was very warm but not burning hot. It must be the snake's venom heating him up. Or an infection. She felt the pulse at his wrist. Not strong and not slow, but steady.

'Hmmm,' she said absently. Now that Voldemort was dead, this man was one of the most loathed people in Wizarding England. She ran through the possibilities. What if I take him back to the castle, which is full of hundreds of adrenaline-mad, grief-stricken people who hate him. Not safe. What if I leave him here until I can find an adult to help...Madam Pomfrey. But Order members could find him here with Winky. They might just kill him. Death Eaters? Probably would. Students? Possibly. Aurors? They might take him to St Mungo's, or they might transport him right to prison, killing him in the process.

She walked around the room, weaving the wards she had used every day all winter long to hide herself and Harry and Ron. It was, again, the best she could do for now.

Kreacher had sidled up to the other side of the bed and was looking everywhere but at Winky while he whined, 'Deserting its post during the battle, ooooh, it's a bad elf. Doing whatever the Mudblood says...'

'Kreacher,' snapped Hermione. 'Stop being horrible to Winky. You have to do what I say, too.' She felt like a bully the minute she said it, but honestly. Kreacher was incorrigible. 'Winky,' she said more kindly. 'You've done wonderfully. I will send help soon. Keep taking care of him, and don't panic if anyone comes into the Shack. They won't be able to see you unless I've told them you're here.'

She looked down at Snape. 'I have to go now, Professor. Good-bye.' I'll try to keep you out of Azkaban until you're better, at least.

'Okay, Kreacher. Back to the castle, please, and no Splinching.'

* * *

The crash hit them all at once, hard.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, then closed them and left his hand tented over them. His face looked dirty and pinched in the sunlight that washed in through the windows of the Headmaster's office.

Hermione looked up at Ron. His face was grey and exhausted and, now that they weren't talking anymore, he looked, well... He looked like he was maybe ready to start crying again. Her heart lurched. Ron. She reached her hand out and grasped his; his gaze met hers. She tried to let all the love she felt shine through to him.

He smiled at her a little, and caught her other hand too, but his eyes were swimming. He glanced over at Harry and looked away. He was going to try to keep it together in front of Harry.

Oh, Ron. She sighed and let her eyes close for just a minute. Her boys were about to fall apart. They needed rest. Nothing more could or should be expected of them...for a long time, really...but certainly not until they had slept.

She, however, had one more job to do before she herself could rest.

Right. She opened her eyes.

'Harry,' she said. 'Ron. It's time to sleep. Come on. Everything else can come after sleep.' Harry stood up and walked over to her and Ron, stumbling a little, he was so tired.

Hermione turned to Dumbledore's portrait. 'Sir,' she said. 'May we use the Floo? It's a long way to Gryffindor Tower.'

'Of course,' said Dumbledore. 'Of course you may. Please go, and rest now, my dear, dear children.'

Ron still had hold of both of her hands, and he started moving them both, awkwardly, towards the fireplace.

'No, Ron, I'm... I actually have to stay for a few minutes and talk to Professor Dumbledore about something. You two go on ahead; I'll follow.' She pulled her hands out of his, then, feeling shy but bold, she threw her arms around his neck and stretched up to kiss him on the lips.

He held her tight and kissed her soundly, then leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. 'Mione,' he whispered.

'I know,' she murmured, and now she was about to cry, just burst with tears of happiness and grief and exhaustion. 'I'll see you after you wake up.'

She hugged Harry fiercely. 'I'll be there in five minutes, and I expect you both to be upstairs in bed.'

When the green sparkles died down in the grate, she turned back to the portrait.

'What do you want to talk to me about, my dear?' asked Dumbledore, looking down at her.

'It...it's Professor Snape, sir.'

Dumbledore grew very still. 'Yes?'

'Professor Dumbledore, he's alive! I didn't want to say anything in front of Harry, because he'd want to go to him right away, and Harry...Harry needs to rest, sir. And Professor Snape...he's all right for the moment, but he's badly hurt, of course, and he needs real help...and if everyone knew what Harry just told us, he'd be safe. But it's complicated, isn't it? It's delicate.'

She was pacing in front of the portrait, and wringing her hands. She'd gone to see Madam Pomfrey as soon as Kreacher Apparated her back to the castle, and the Healer, hearing that Snape was safe and stable, advised keeping him where he was for the time being.

'I'll tell Professor McGonagall, and we'll take care of it,' she'd said. 'Don't worry, dear.'

But now everything was different.

'Everybody still thinks he's a traitor and they hate him. And I...'

'Miss Granger,' Dumbledore broke in. 'It's all right. Professor McGonagall has already spoken to me about it, and is in possession of the facts. She has been to see him and is arranging transport to St Mungo's as soon as it can be managed.

'You have done splendidly, and I am more grateful than I can say that you were the one who found him, and that you found him in time. And I hope that soon... well, never mind that.' Dumbledore shook his head a little.

'You must go and rest now,' he said. 'We'll take care of Professor Snape.' He smiled at her.

Almost too tired to feel relieved, she stumbled to the fireplace and in four minutes was asleep in someone's bed in the girls' dormitory.

* * *

A/N: And that, my friends, concludes the canon-compliant part of our story. The last scene in this chapter takes place at the very end of Deathly Hallows...before the Epilogue. Harry has told Ron and Hermione about what he saw in the Pensieve and what happened in the Forest, and he has spoken with Dumbledore's portrait about the Hallows...and abjured the wand and the stone.