Truth and Consequences - Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potterverse, it belongs to JK Roeling. I'm not making any money from this.

Chapter 24: Truth and Consequences (Part 1)

I should just go home, Hermione thought for the hundredth time that day as she gazed unseeingly at the walls of Ginny's bedroom. They're never going to understand about me and Severus. Both Harry and Ron had been assiduously avoiding her since she had dropped her bombshell three days ago. Considering Ginny's strong family loyalty and her attachment to Harry, Hermione had fully expected the same treatment from the younger girl. Happily, that was not the case. In fact, Ginny had been surprisingly supportive. The fiery redhead was more thoughtful and less judgmental than Hermione remembered from their days together at school. At least there's one person in this house who knows and is still talking to me, she mused.

The door opened abruptly and the subject of Hermione's thoughts entered. Ginny slammed the door shut behind her and flopped onto her bed. "Whew! If I never peel another potato, it will be too soon!" she exclaimed. "My mum is such a tyrant in the kitchen. Will you do me a favor, Hermione?"

"If I can. What is it?"

"Kick me if I ever start acting like my mother!"

Both girls chuckled. Ginny's complaints about doing housework and cooking – sans magic – were a regular source of amusement for the two of them.

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said. "I really needed a spot of comic relief."

"Have you been brooding again?" Ginny inquired with a scowl. "Listen, stop worrying about those two, they'll come around eventually. You just have to give them more time."

"I doubt that time will make a difference."

"Well, I don't. They need to cool off for a while before they'll be able to see your side of the story. Neither of them has ever been in a situation where they were totally constrained. You were only doing what you had to do in order to stay sane." Ginny's voice dropped to a soft, thoughtful pitch. "I know what that's like. I still remember what it felt like to be controlled and manipulated by Riddle. Sometimes... sometimes I thought I was going crazy, like I had no control over my own life." She sighed. "Anyway, once they've had time to really think about things, they'll understand your point of view a little better."

"I hope you're right," Hermione replied morosely. She was clearly unconvinced.

"You know, you really do need to sort things out with Ron. He's hurting as much as you over this."

"I'd give it a try if he would only stay in the same room with me," she lamented, shaking her head sadly. "I can't make them see things my way and I can't pretend that things haven't changed between us. There's just no point in staying here any longer. I should go back to my parents' house."

Ginny shook her head in disagreement, but didn't speak. They had been over this ground several times before. The two young witches subsided into silence, each engrossed in their own thoughts.

Hermione knew that Ginny was right. She owed it to Ron. He was her friend. He had been her boyfriend, albeit for only a short time. She needed to make another effort to get through to him.

But Ron beat her to it. That evening a tentative knock sounded on their bedroom door.

"Come in," Ginny called.

Ron entered a moment later. "Hi, I... um, was wondering if we could talk," he muttered uncertainly, eyes locked onto Hermione's face. "We could go for a walk. I mean, if you want to that is?"

Ginny was on her feet, already heading for the door. As she passed her brother, she touched his arm briefly. "I'll go, Ron. You two stay here and talk."

Ron nodded and watched the door swing shut behind his sister. "Hermione, there's so many things I want to say to you, but I'm not sure where to start."

"Just begin with the most important one," she replied gravely. He nodded but still didn't speak. After a minute the silence became strained and Hermione spoke lightly to break the tension. "Frankly, Ron, I'm just glad you're talking rather than yelling."

Ron's lips quirked slightly. "I did that already – out in the Quidditch paddock the day before yesterday. I must have scared off every bird within two miles!" She smiled faintly at his joke. "Anyway," he said more seriously, "I don't fancy having you tell me off – watching Harry get it was enough for me. You're still scary sometimes."

He cleared his throat. "I... I've thought a lot about the things you said the other day. About how difficult it was for you, and how isolated you were that whole time. It never occurred to me that.... What I mean is, I only thought about how I felt when you were gone – not about how you must have felt. When we first saw those memories you seemed almost content – the same old Hermione – happily studying away the time. It never occurred to us that you were under a lot of stress."

"Ron, the memories you saw were very carefully selected – a tiny fraction of what I went through, with none of the unpleasant events – like the day I was captured, tortured and interrogated or even the long periods of depression and loneliness I went through. Voldemort was very cunning; he wanted Harry and anyone else who saw them to believe I was a tr..." She broke off, unable to actually say the hated word. "He was trying to manipulate you all."

"I know," he answered quickly. "Moody and Remus spotted that pretty quickly. But in the last set of memories you seemed to be... changed. The only thing that made sense to us was that you were being magically controlled," he ended lamely.

"I was changed," she said softly, but with certainty. "No one could go through eight months of captivity without being affected by their experiences. But the core of who I am – my essential self – they couldn't touch that, Ron. I'm still your friend and I'm still Harry's friend."

"Just a friend?" he asked in wistfully. "We... we were more than that last summer."

She looked down, confused and uncertain how she should answer.

He seemed to take her silence as encouragement, gazing entreatingly at her. "What happened while you were a prisoner doesn't matter to me. I don't care about your involvement with..." He broke off as he searched for the right words. "None of that changes how I feel about you. I still... I still care about you. I want you as much as I did before all this happened." He stepped close, tentatively lifting his hands to caress her upper arms.

"Ron, don't," she pleaded, removing his hands gently and stepping back a pace.

"Why not?" he inquired in a confused voice. "Is this... are you saying that you don't feel the same anymore – about us?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all," Hermione clarified. Meeting his eyes, she saw a sudden gleam of hope rekindle there. That was one of the things she had always found attractive about Ron: his persistent optimism. Her heart contracted painfully, knowing that what she had to say next would dampen it. She sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that a great many things have happened over the past eight months. I have to come to terms with everything – with the things I have done as well as with the changes in my life." She forbore to tell him that she also felt she had to sort out her feelings about Severus. Ron didn't need to hear that; that would be akin to pouring salt onto his already wounded feelings. "I can't just jump back into a relationship with you as if nothing has happened. I need time, Ron. And space."

A crestfallen look dominated his features. He looked down. "Is there any hope for us? I mean, is there any point in waiting for you, Hermione?"

"I don't know yet," she replied honestly. "But I do know that all the things I liked about you, all the reasons I was attracted to you while we were at school, are still there. But I have a lot of adjustments to make. I need to get used to freedom again and think about the future. You and Harry have known that you wanted to become Aurors since our fourth year. But I've never been able to narrow down my choices. Now that we all have a future to look forward to, I have to think seriously about mine."

Ron nodded resignedly. "When you decide what you want, you know where to find me." He paused and swallowed hard. "Until then, we're friends."

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

"You have visitors, Snape!" the evening guard called, rousing the somnolent prisoner from his uncomfortable bed.

Snape sat up slowly, trying to focus on the portion of the hall visible through the bars of his cell. Only the guard was in his line of sight, but he heard footsteps approaching; several different footfalls could be distinguished. Wearily, he rose from the bed. Might as well meet them at the door, he decided sarcastically. Briefly, he wondered what 'interesting news' these newcomers would have for him. It seemed that the main form of entertainment for the Ministry guards was taunting him with stories about recently captured or killed Death Eaters. Four people rounded the corner, entering the corridor outside his cell. The guard returned to his chair by the main doors, giving the group a cheery wave as he passed. Snape's eyes were drawn instantly to the shock of pink hair that unmistakably proclaimed the presence of Nymphadora Tonks. He recognized another of the quartet as well. Dawlish, his brain registered. What's that arrogant prig doing here? He didn't know the other two men, but he supposed that they were Aurors, like their companions. "Well, well," he sneered as they approached. "To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

Dawlish bared his teeth in a travesty of a smile. "That's right, Snape. You'd better do your talking now, while you still can. Because once your trial is over, you won't remember how."

What the devil is he blabbing about? Snape wondered as he attempted to scowl fiercely to cover his uncertainty.

Dawlish, however, seemed to pick up on it anyway and continued to bait his victim. "Haven't you heard about the new bylaw, Law Enforcement Decree #67? It was passed last week. Since the Ministry has irrevocably ended all alliances with the Dementors, we no longer have the option of administering the Dementor's Kiss. Fortunately, the Charms Specialists in the Department of Mysteries have come up with a novel way to deal with irredeemable convicts – like Death Eaters. It's called the Universitas Oblivate. Your friend Macnair was the first to experience it," he informed Snape with a malicious smile. "Now, he wears a nappy and cries when he's hungry. His mind is a clean slate, just waiting to be re-taught what we deem appropriate. He's even been given a new identity. Bye-bye, Walden Macnair," he finished airily.

Total memory erasure, even language and basic coordination! Snape realized with a shock. He curled his lip, attempting to glare disdainfully at Dawlish's gloating face, but his horror at the description of the new punishment was, apparently, discernable to his tormenter.

"Yes, Snape," the man continued relentlessly, "your turn is coming soon. Total oblivion – without the useless body to deal with afterward. I think you'll make a fine janitor once you've been retrained."

"That's enough, Dawlish!" Tonks finally interrupted.

"Don't tell me you have some sympathy for scum like this," Dawlish challenged Tonks incredulously.

"As a matter of fact, I don't," she answered curtly. "But it's not our job to sentence him; the Wizengamot will decide what to do with him. We're just here to deliver a message. And I, for one, would like to get it over and done with. So shut it and let me do what we came for!"

"You can't talk to me that way, Tonks. I have seniority over you."

"Piss off, Dawlish! You don't have the authority to boss me around!"

"Fine! Do it without me then!" he answered. Angrily, the man spun on his heel and stomped back down the corridor.

"Julian!" Tonks called over her shoulder. "Would you come here?"

The portly guard reappeared, huffing slightly. "What's up, cousin?"

"Regulations state that we need four people present during physical interactions with prisoners. I need you to take Dawlish's place; he had to leave."

Julian drew his wand and stepped up next to her two silent companions.

Tonks regarded Snape's stony visage. He had regained his self control and his face betrayed no trace of emotion – not even anger. "Snape, I've brought something for you." Reaching into her cloak pocket, she fished out a cloth pouch and extended it to him.

As he took it, he heard a faint clinking noise. Potion vials? he speculated silently. Opening the pouch, he removed a small glass bottle. It did not contain a potion. The ethereal silver-white memories swirled rapidly inside the clear vial, seemingly of their own volition. There were three vials. He looked up questioningly at Tonks.

"Those are from Hermione Granger," she informed him. "She petitioned every office right up to the Minister of Magic, but was denied permission to visit you. Even her status as one of the Indestructible Trio wasn't sufficient to get her past the Ministry regulations. No non-Ministry personnel are permitted contact with captured Death Eaters."

The Indestructible Trio, are they now? Snape heard the implied capital letters and knew instantly that it was, ironically, his own doing. The Impenetrable Potion had made them, at least temporarily, indestructible. "Why are you giving these to me?" he asked finally.

"Hermione said they were yours. She begged me to return them to you and made me promise to help you reintegrate them."

He bent his head, allowing his hair to swing in front of his face like a curtain, partially concealing his features. So, she knows everything, he surmised. Why did she send them back now? If Dawlish is correct and I am to have my memories erased, what is the point of having these copies reintegrated into my memory? Perhaps, he speculated, she wishes to be rid of all evidence of our liaison.

"Well, Snape? Are you going to cooperate?"

Why not? They're mine, after all. Lifting his head, he nodded wearily.

The pink-haired witch drew her own wand and stepped closer. "Give me the pouch and put your hands up here next to the crossbars," she ordered. He did as directed and watched dispassionately as she bound his wrists to the metal bars of his cell door. When he was secured, she opened the first vial and drew its contents out with the tip of her wand. Carefully, she raised the delicate silver string to his temple where it vibrated lightly against his skin. "Memoria concerus," she chanted softly.

The thread slipped into his mind, nestling into the grooves and spaces between his thoughts as the individual memories sought to mesh with their original imprints. As each one found its match he relived the events in a rapid burst of recollection – like a Muggle video on fast forward. He blinked his eyes at the odd but not unpleasant feeling of reintegration.

"Ready for the next?" Tonks asked.

He gave a sharp nod and stood perfectly still as she repeated the process. When he had assimilated the second set of memories, he felt a wave of dizziness pass through him. He swayed slightly on his feet and grasped the bars awkwardly for balance. Several seconds later, the dizziness receded and he took a shaky breath to reclaim his equilibrium.

Tonks watched impassively until he met her eyes once more. "All right, Snape?"

"Yes. Just finish it!" he snapped.

She pursed her lips in annoyance but said nothing, merely drawing forth the contents of the final vial and softly repeating the incantation.

As the string eased into his consciousness and split apart, Snape closed his eyes. Perhaps a lack of sight will reduce the vertigo, he thought fleetingly as he waited for each portion to find its way 'home.' In a flash, he saw again the day he had taught Hermione how to make the Blood Replenishing Potion. Next, he watched his own collapse the morning after the raid on Azkaban. With his eyes shut, the reintegration seemed smoother, slower. One more to go, he thought. He repressed a smile as he felt the copy enmesh with its original, allowing him to relive and appreciate the experience of making love with Hermione. When it was finished, he opened his eyes and drew a breath, intending to demand that Tonks release his bonds. Instead, the odd feeling returned as, unexpectedly, another memory settled into place as it attempted to make a home inside his mind. It entwined itself around one of his own recollections of this past Christmas Day, but Snape knew instantly that this memory was not his own. In a whirlwind, he watched events unfold – from Hermione's perspective. He felt her relief as they entered the woods, her comfort as they walked arm in arm and he knew, via her own remembered emotions, that even through her hunger and exhaustion, he had brought her a few hours of happiness in the midst of her captivity. It was his last thought before he blacked out.

*****

Snape opened his eyes to find himself stretched out on the hard bed of his cell. He was alone. For a moment he wondered if the Aurors' visit and the return of his memories had been a dream. The pounding in his head was real enough. He brought his fingers up to massage his temples and felt his left wrist protest in pain. Examining it revealed a red weal where the skin had been abraded. At that point, he remembered the vertigo overwhelming his senses and realized that he had lost consciousness while still tied to the bars of his cell. It's a rope burn, he concluded. He must have wrenched his wrist when he fell. Well, I suppose that means it was not a dream.

He closed his eyes to ease the ache in his skull and began to analyze the situation. He had a memory in his head that wasn't his own. He was still uncertain how it was possible to assimilate another person's memory, but that was unimportant since, obviously, he had done it. Hermione had given him one of her own memories of their time together. She had deliberately attached it to one of the existing strings, making it undetectable – until it was released inside his mind. It was, therefore, a message intended solely for him. Clever girl, he thought with a smile. She couldn't get in to see me, so she sent that instead. But what, exactly, does it mean? he wondered. That day, she had been extremely depressed because she was separated from her family and friends. In an effort to console her, he had taken her to the pine wood to walk, breathe the scented air and refresh her tired mind. It was a memory of hope, of renewal.

A sudden burst of optimism overtook him, the first truly positive feeling he'd had since his capture. She sent the message to offer me comfort; she wants me to not lose hope. Perhaps, he thought longingly, she is planning something that will help me.

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

"You two are really going?" Poised in the doorway between the parlor and kitchen, Harry was frozen, as if in disbelief. The Burrow was quiet, as all the others had gone to work or were out of the house doing errands.

"I won't let her put up with that circus alone, Harry. Whatever happened before is immaterial. She was there – with the two of us – at the Ministry! We all faced Voldemort together. She and I don't have to prove anything to you; you already know where our loyalties lie." He turned to Hermione, giving her a gentle push toward the fireplace. "Go on through, I'll be right behind you."

As Ron and Hermione exited the Floo into the Ministry, a wave of noise washed over them. They threaded their way through the mass of onlookers and reporters in the Atrium. The shouted questions from the reporters could barely be heard over the cheering and tumult of the crowd. Flashes of light from numerous cameras repeatedly obliterated the scene with white light, leaving dark after-images dancing in front of their eyes. In short, it was a mob scene. They ignored it all, making their way as straight as possible toward the lifts. Ministry security guards ushered them inside, neatly preventing any of the jostling reporters from entering. The doors shut, abruptly blocking out the din.

"Whew!" Hermione sighed.

"It will probably be worse by the time we leave, you know," Ron warned her.

"How comforting," Hermione said sarcastically under her breath. She sighed again. "Ron?"

"Mmm?"

"I really appreciate that you're helping me with this. I'm glad you can put justice ahead of your own feelings."

"I'm not doing this for the sake of justice, Hermione. I'm doing it for you."

He met her eyes, and in that moment she felt the blue fire of his gaze pierce her composure. "Oh, Ron," she said regretfully. She knew he was hurting. They all were. But somehow, he was able to rise above the pain and be her friend – now – when she needed it so desperately. Stepping close, she gave him a hug. "Thank you for being here," she whispered, truly grateful for his support.

The clang of the elevator warned them of the imminent opening of the doors and they stepped apart.

"Ready?" Ron asked as the doors retracted, revealing a long hall. Hermione merely nodded. They paced the length of the corridor, both uneasily aware of the plain black door drawing ever nearer. The memories of their desperation and terror in the Department of Mysteries were still fresh and raw. Just before they reached the door, Ron turned sharply to the left, passing through an opening that led down a flight of stairs. Hermione followed.

They emerged from the stairwell into a dungeon-like corridor filled with murmuring witches and wizards, many wearing the stately robes of the Wizengamot. The two young people took up a place by the wall, waiting silently for the courtroom to be opened. Hermione was lost in thought, staring absently at her shoes, when an unexpected voice startled her from her reflections.

"I still can't believe that you're going to defend that bastard!" An angry Harry Potter stood directly in front of her, green eyes alight with emotion.

"Harry, we've been through this already," Hermione reasoned half-heartedly. She was tired of going over the same ground with him. It was clear that they would never see eye-to-eye about Snape. "You know that everything is not as clear-cut as it seems."

"I know that he's nothing more than a murderer – just like his 'Master'. I hope they sentence him to the Universitas Oblivate! I only wish the Dementors were still around to give him a Kiss!"

Hermione gasped. "You don't mean that, Harry! Convincing the Ministry to dissociate itself from those horrors is one of the best things you've ever done. No one deserves such a fate. Anyway, I'm not going to defend him – just clarify some issues for the Wizengamot."

"No matter what extenuating circumstances you think there are, Hermione, he is the root cause of a lot of pain and death, especially in my life," Harry proclaimed. "He doesn't deserve anyone's understanding, much less forgiveness!"

At that, her patience snapped. "So," she retorted, "because you hate him, you're going to choose to be just like him?"

"I am nothing like Snape!" Harry spat.

"Aren't you?" she replied, giving him a hard look. "Severus Snape has spent the last twenty years holding a grudge against your father. He was blinded by his prejudice – he refused to see that you are very different from his old enemy. Isn't that exactly where you are headed, Harry? Straight for a permanent, unshakable grudge?"

Harry stared, apparently at a total loss for words.

The ponderous wooden door to the courtroom opened at last and the milling groups of wizards and witches began moving toward it.

"Think hard, Harry," Hermione urged. "Do you really want to trap your emotions in that kind of suspended animation for the next twenty years or so?" Taking Ron's arm, she followed the last of the elaborately-robed wizards into the courtroom, leaving the Chosen One to stare blankly at their retreating backs.

*****

Two burly wizards escorted Snape into the room and seated him in the defendant's chair. Immediately, magical chains encircled his wrists and ankles, binding him securely to the chair.

The Ministry's prosecutor stood. It was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Silence, please! This trial is now called to order. I, Robert Ogden, will be directing the proceedings during this trial. All comments, questions and requests should be directed to me." He gestured to the man seated to his left. "Minister Scrimgeour will act as my liaison to the Ministry regarding its current executive policies. The Wizengamot, by majority vote, will render judgment in this case. My administrative assistant, Mr. Percy Weasley, will act as court scribe." He indicated Percy who was seated several seats to the right at the end of the central dais.

At that moment, the courtroom door opened. Harry Potter entered silently, nodded to Ogden in apology, and then deliberately made his way along the second row toward his two friends. He took a seat next to Ron.

"The defendant, Severus Snape, is formally accused of the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore by use of the Unforgivable Curse, Avada Kedavra. Further, he is accused of being a long-time follower of He Who Must Not Be Named – a Death Eater. The second charge has already been substantiated by several eye witness accounts as well as the presence, on the defendant's arm, of the Dark Mark. Therefore, these proceedings will focus on the first charge: the murder of Albus Dumbledore.

He turned to address the members of the Wizengamot. "You have all had ample opportunity to read the full statement given by Mr. Harry Potter shortly after the former Headmaster's death." A murmur of agreement was audible and Ogden continued. "Mr. Potter was an eyewitness to the events that took place on the night Albus Dumbledore died. In his statement, he clearly indicates that Severus Snape, then the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, performed the Killing Curse on the former Headmaster. Are there any members of the Wizengamot who wish to further question Mr. Potter about the events he witnessed?"

Much head shaking was seen, but not a hand or voice was raised in response.

"Very well," Ogden acknowledged. "I direct the attention of the Wizengamot to the parchments handed out shortly before these proceedings convened. A statement was recently obtained from another witness to the death of Albus Dumbledore: captured Death Eater, Alecto Carrow. Although the testimony of Ms. Carrow is deemed biased due to her allegiance to He Who Must Not Be Named, in essentials, it agrees with Mr. Potter's. It confirms the fact that Severus Snape used the Killing Curse on Albus Dumbledore."

A rumble of surprise traveled around the courtroom. Snape himself maintained an expressionless facade, but Hermione thought she could detect a despondent slump to his shoulders.

"Mr. Snape, do you have any statement to make or any evidence to present that refutes the eyewitness accounts to the death of Albus Dumbledore?"

"No," Snape replied stoically.

"Very well," Ogden responded. "Elders of the Wizengamot, the evidence is before you. I ask that you vote now to reach a verdict in..."

"Mr. Ogden," a voice interrupted. "I beg the court's indulgence, but I have testimony to present for the Wizengamot's consideration before a judgment is made."

Ogden swung around in surprise to see Hermione Granger on her feet, regarding him with a polite expression. Ah, yes, he recalled, she was Snape's prisoner for months – of course she wants to testify against him. "Miss Granger, it is needless for you to be subjected to such unpleasantness. We have sufficient evidence already with regard to Mr. Snape's activities as a Death Eater. Your personal testimony against him is unnecessary."

"You mistake me, sir," she responded civilly. "I wish to testify in Severus Snape's favor."

A murmur of surprise swept over the courtroom. "Do you have evidence to suggest that the defendant is innocent of the charges against him?" Ogden asked doubtfully.

"No, sir."

"Then what the blazes are you about, girl?" Minister Scrimgeour exclaimed loudly. At that, Ron Weasley stood, anger plain on his freckled face. Rather than speaking, he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder – an obvious gesture of support.

Ogden glared at the Minister, clearly annoyed. "Rufus, I would appreciate it if you would control your outbursts." He resumed his questioning of the young woman. "Miss Granger, would you please specify what type of testimony you intend to present?"

"I would like to enter a plea for clemency on behalf of the defendant," Hermione stated clearly. "There are extenuating circumstances relevant to this case which the court is not aware of."

Ogden paused to consider the dynamics before him. Granger was still sporting that polite mask, while Weasley had his eyes narrowed in a calculating fashion. Legally, they had no power within this courtroom; however, they were two thirds of the Indestructible Trio. They had done what many witches and wizards thrice their age would not have dared to do: faced He Who Must Not Be Named. Perhaps, he speculated, they do have relevant information for the Wizengamot. After all, mysteries seem to pop up around Potter and his friends like toadstools after a rainstorm. He inclined his head graciously to the young woman. "You may enter your plea," he granted.

Hermione smiled in relief. "Thank you. My plea for clemency will be based on three criteria. Firstly, that Severus Snape did not kill Albus Dumbledore in cold blood, but only acted to prevent his own death. Secondly, that over the course of my capture and captivity he repeatedly saved my life, as well as the lives of three of my friends: Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter and Remus Lupin. And thirdly, that he repudiated his allegiance to Voldemort before his downfall."

Many in the courtroom winced at her open pronouncement of the Dark Lord's name, but Hermione did not look the least bit repentant as she continued. "In order to preclude any doubts about the veracity of my testimony, I ask that Veritaserum be administered to me. I will then answer questions posed by Ronald Weasley."

Ogden didn't like it. He suspected that he'd been set up quite deftly by this young woman. But as he had already agreed to hear her plea, he forbore to raise any objections. He looked to the right end of the dais. "Weasley, fetch the serum and give the proper dose to Miss Granger," he directed. With a wave of his wand, he conjured a chair several feet to the right of the defendant's.

Without prompting, Hermione walked quickly to the seat and awaited Percy, who dispensed the truth serum carefully, making sure that precisely three drops fell onto her tongue. Within seconds, Hermione's face went slack as the drug took effect.

"You may proceed with your questions," Ogden directed Ron.

Ron cleared his throat and briefly consulted the parchment he held. "Please state your full name fo..."

"...Mr. Weasley, that's not necessary," Ogden interrupted. "The court is satisfied that the identity of the witness is indeed Hermione Granger."

"Oh... um, okay," he stammered, as his ears turned red. He cleared his throat again. "Miss Granger, you stated that Severus Snape did not kill the former Headmaster in cold blood. Why then, did he do it?"

"Because he had taken an Unbreakable Vow to protect and assist Draco Malfoy."

Ron frowned at her short answer, and then realized that while under the influence of the Veritaserum, she would only answer the exact question he had asked. "Please explain what that has to do with Professor Dumbledore's death."

"Draco Malfoy was ordered by Voldemort to kill the former Headmaster. If he failed, he would be killed himself. His mother was distressed, fearing for her son's life. She pleaded with Severus Snape to help her son. He took an Unbreakable Vow, both to help the Malfoys and to cover his activities as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. The vow specified that he was to protect Draco from harm, to help him in his task if necessary and if Draco failed in his task, to step in and complete it." Hermione recited the story in a flat, matter of fact voice, barely pausing for breath. "After many months of effort," she continued, "Draco succeeded in bringing Death Eaters into Hogwarts. However, he couldn't bring himself to kill Professor Dumbledore. When Snape arrived he realized that he would have to complete Draco's task, or die from breaking the vow. He knew that if he died, both Draco and Dumbledore, who was disarmed, would then be killed by the other three Death Eaters that were present. So he made the choice to save his own and Draco's life. He killed Professor Dumbledore."

Ogden was frowning in concentration. "Did Albus Dumbledore know about the Unbreakable Vow?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"Continue, Mr. Weasley."

"You claimed that Snape saved your life and the lives of your friends," Ron read from the parchment. "Describe these instances."

"The first time was the day I was captured. I was being tortured by Dolohov, Pritchard and Caldwell. I struggled, and in the process injured Caldwell. Pritchard became angry and started to cast a Severing Hex at me, but Snape appeared then and blocked the hex. Several weeks later, Caldwell tried to kill me. The knife he threw just missed and Snape hexed him to prevent another attack. The third time, Narcissa Malfoy tried to kill me with a Slicing Hex, but missed. Quickly, Snape disarmed her so she couldn't try again. The fourth time he saved my life was the night I was rescued, just before Voldemort was destroyed. He also saved Harry, Ron and Remus at the same time." She paused as if recollecting the event, then continued in the same soft monotone. "Severus Snape and I were at the Riddle house waiting for a chance to flee when my friends arrived. During the fight, Remus was Stunned and then Voldemort's familiar, a huge, killer snake showed up. Harry and Ron tried to repel it, but it was too strong. Finally, Severus killed it."

"Miss Granger, how do you know that the snake was a killer?" Ogden inquired.

"It was the same snake that attacked and nearly killed Arthur Weasley two years ago," she responded automatically.

"I see. And do you agree, Mr. Weasley, that the defendant saved your life that night?"

"Yes, sir," he answered with a sidelong look at Harry. "May I continue?"

Ogden nodded his permission.

Ron consulted his parchment nervously. "Hermione, you said earlier that Snape had repudiated his allegiance to Voldemort. When did this occur?"

"Right after he killed the snake."

"I find this all too convenient," Scrimgeour commented suspiciously. "Miss Granger, what exactly did the defendant say when he 'repudiated' You-Know-Who?"

"After Snape had killed Voldemort's familiar, Harry asked him outright whose side he was on. He answered that he was not entirely on anyone's side, because no one was entirely on his side."

"I see," Scrimgeour said with satisfaction. "An eleventh hour change of heart – and a partial one at that – is hardly enough cause to pardon a murderer."

"Minister, you are out of order!" Ogden retorted sharply. A murmur of agreement came from the council members behind him. "The interpretation of testimony and most especially its application to the plea entered is the responsibility of the Wizengamot alone! I ask that you refrain from similar comments. Do you have more questions, Mr. Weasley?"

"Um... yes, a couple."

"Continue, then."

Ron cleared his throat, but for once did not glance at his parchment. "Hermione, you said earlier that Snape was planning to flee and take you with him. Why did you agree to go?"

"The alternative was death. Voldemort would have used me to trap to Harry and then he would have killed me. And..." Hermione stammered as she tried to modulate her answer in spite of the drug. "...and because I knew that Severus would protect me – because he wanted me to stay with him."

"And did you want to stay with him?" Ron asked.

"Part of me did, yes."

"Mr. Weasley," Ogden interjected. "Is this really relevant to..."

"Do you love him?" Ron blurted anxiously.

"That... depends," Hermione answered slowly into the shocked silence.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked. He seemed confused at not getting a direct answer.

"Well, if you believe that love is based on trust, then I suppose the answer is yes. But if you think that love consists of unquestioning loyalty, then the answer is no. I don't think I am capable of unconditional loyalty."

"Mr. Weasley," Ogden said finally recovering his voice. "These questions are clearly personal in..."

"Sorry, sir," Ron apologized. "I have no more questions." He sat down, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Ogden scowled at the young man – he disliked being interrupted, especially repeatedly. "Very well. Give Miss Granger the antidote," he directed Percy.

Snape watched Percy Weasley comply with his orders, but his mind was not focused on what he was seeing. In fact, his prior surprise over Hermione's clemency plea and testimony in his favor had been totally superseded by her final declaration. She as good as admitted that she loves me – under Veritaserum and in front of the entire courtroom, he thought wonderingly. When he had entered the courtroom, he was certain that he would be rapidly convicted and sentenced, but now she'd planted a seed of hope. It was time to speak up for himself.

******************************************************************************

Author's Notes:

1. The exact nature of Pensieve memories has never been defined by J. K. Rowling. However, from clues in the text, I think it's clear that they must be copies or reproductions in some sense. Both Dumbledore and Snape quite obviously remembered the events that they deposited in the Pensieve basin after the memories were 'removed' from their minds. (In particular, the scene where Dumbledore shows Harry the prophecy [OotP] comes to mind.) However, Snape puts his 'worst memories' into the Pensieve so that Harry cannot see them during their Occlumency lessons. From this, it can be deduced that it is not possible for another person to access the original memory imprint via Legilimency once the Pensieve version has been drawn out. Still, Snape clearly knew what was in that Pensieve, hence his rage at finding Harry snooping. Rowling's lack of clarity is a little frustrating, but at least it allows fan fiction writers license to use her concept as best suits our needs!

2. Concero = connect/join; memoria = memory