Chapter 16 - The Trial

A/N: For simplicity's sake, titles of books, journals etc are underlined and emphases are italicised.

Beyond Time and Space

Chapter 16 – The Trial

Small heart had Hermione for waiting. Only an hour before she attempted to restore Severus to life, her evil stars had led her to a passage of a book that Severus had left open at the desk. Her eyes lighted upon the heavily underlined speech Shakespeare's Macbeth,

"She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more; it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and,

Signifying nothing."

He had evidently underlined 'And is heard no more' and 'signifying nothing' thrice. Why? Was he apprehensive about the night's resurrection attempt? Was he certain that she would fail? She closed his well-thumbed Complete Works of William Shakespeare and stared into the dying embers of the hearth. She would follow the Oracle's injunction – she would not forsake him. Regardless what happened, she would continue to help him. All of a sudden, possessing his library and living in the quarters allocated to her as Potions Mistress were unimportant. She would help him adjust to normality; she would give him the acceptance and recognition due to him. The Oracle, as Hermione had come to regard the strange woman of her dreams, had continued to nag her incessantly about her lack of prudence. Naturally, the logical half of her brain pooh-poohed the idea; but as the gnawing feeling increased in intensity, she could not help feeling a general sense of foreboding. "Granger, get a grip on yourself," she scolded her mind aloud.

Severus, who had re-entered the room at that point, cast her a quizzical look. "Only beginning to doubt your sanity now, Professor Granger?"

"Audacious thing!" she hissed half-heartedly, still staring at the fireplace, her hands cupping her cheeks despondently.

"Anxious or petrified?" he asked in a gentler tone than he intended.

She watched him school his features into indifference and smirked knowingly. "Will you think more of me if I answered yes?"

"You presume to be aware of my thoughts, insufferable know-it-all?" he retorted as he perched on the armrest of her sofa.

"Severus. May I call you Severus?" she began, closing her eyes to concentrate on her words without the distraction of his mocking eyes. She took his uninterrupted silent drumming of his fingers on her shoulders to be an intelligible assent. "What if I hurt you in the resurrection?"

"As unlikely as it may seem, I have a strong constitution." He leaned closer to her, feeling her shiver at their point of contact. "Shouldn't you be more concerned with your own safety in the task? The incantation can be hazardous to the uninitiated."

She smiled at his sneer. "What happens to me is immaterial; I gave you my word."

"It is not immaterial to me!" he hissed violently seizing her shoulders."

"Was that one of your pithy aphorisms, Professor?" she teased, patting his hand.

He harrumphed in white displeasure. "Nobody wants to do harm to himself and in our case, the other as well; therefore all that is bad is done involuntarily, for the bad do harm to themselves. This, they would not do if the knew the bad is bad. Hence, the bad are only bad because of an error. If one removes the error, one necessarily makes them good."

"Are you exonerating yourself from your past or telling me about your Death Eater days?" she asked earnestly.

"Both. Professor Granger..."

"Hermione," she corrected sombrely, wagging a finger in his direction.

"Very well then – Hermione," he continued in undisguised exasperation, curling his upper lip in displeasure at the interruption. "Most decisions in life fall under the category 'calculated risk'. If you do not seize it and shake it senseless, you will never know."

"You never told me why you want to return. Your posthumous reputation renders you a free spirit," she said quietly.

He spat defensively, "Is this interview due to the cruel inclination of my soul?"

"No. I just want an answer."

"I cannot." He insisted.

"You exaggerate; you mean you will not!" she shot back, watching him rise to stand before her.

"There will be time enough for this when I am well and truly back."

"I can act by proxy on your behalf," she offered.

He nodded cryptically at her sincerity; his throat tightening with an unfamiliar emotion. "You are not Viola incognito!"

"You're speaking in riddles," she muttered, unconsciously fanning the pages of the Complete Works of William Shakespeare.

"Have you been reading too much Necromancy that you forget what's in your hands?" he asked scathingly, smoothly fencing her in her sofa.

"I know you've been reading Shakespeare, no need to advertise the fact..." She allowed her voice to trail as she caught Severus's eyes flirting from her lips to the books. Of course! He had made it so apparent that she was unable to think simply and see it for what it was! "Oh!" she exclaimed, quietly colouring a little.

He shifted to prevent her escape as she straightened her posture in the seat. Hermione rolled her eyes at her stupidity and Severus's protectively possessive gesture.

"Twelfth Night," she whispered, comprehension written on her face. "No wonder you couldn't; no wonder you wouldn't."

"Once again," he sneered triumphantly, rewarding her with a cold peck on the forehead, "I have proven that learning changes us in spite of the untameable and unteachable spiritual fatum of premeditated decision and answer to predetermined selected questions. A learner, such as you, cannot relearn, rather, you must finish learning – only to discover ultimately how it had all been within you."

"If that is the case, why did we choose this insane task of restoring you to life?" Her voice was thick with weariness.

"That is akin to asking 'why have knowledge at all'. I will tell you something, Prof...Hermione, I honestly do not know."

She laughed bitterly and rejoined with a quote from Macbeth,

"If thou speakst false,

That lies like truth."

Flinging the book aside, he resumed his former perch and continued,

"Arm, arm and out!

And wish the estate o' the world were now undone."

"What if it doesn't work, Severus?" she asked in a frightened voice.

"As Macbeth says, at least we die with harnesses on our backs."

"Is that doubt I sense?" she snorted, leaning slightly on him, shivering slightly at the ice in her veins as she did so.

"I thought you were entirely composed of self-righteousness rather than confidence!" he said in a snide aside, which she heard.

"Say what you want, but I've been told to consider prudence," she answered in a grave quiet voice. On hearing his owner thus, Crookshanks slinked back into the shadows of the library.

He scowled. "And who dared disabuse Minerva McGonagall's favourite?"

"Remus...and..."

"Confound the werewolf! He is a well-intentioned one, I am aware (Hermione gaped incredulously at this admission). For Merlin's sake, you're not a snake. I can devise a hundred easier ways of suicide; do not kill yourself by dislocating your jaw. It does nothing to enhance the twisted shape of your mouth."

She smirked uneasily at his backhanded compliment.

"Lupin is still a werewolf at the end of the day. He cannot be trusted fully – he tends to prevaricate."

"And you don't?" she challenged, while summoning Dr John Dee's Necromancy.

"I," he stressed in an important manner, "Have made it an art form necessary to survival."

"That's bravado!" She smirked at his curling lips. "Now behave, no teeth gnashing. Raising the dead now, transmission of rabies later."

He drummed his fingers on her shoulders with annoyance and scowled. "I could take house points for your cheek."

"Which one?" she asked, being deliberately obtuse, her voice shaking at the section of the book she was rereading. "I have two."

"Four," he corrected coolly, tensing his hands. He remembered the perfect goddess he had seen in the shower and realised too late that he had made a crude and unforgivably rude remark. For the first time in his existence, he had not made such a remark out of spite. Yet, he had intentionally issued it as a slur. It was a slur on Hermione's woeful neglect of herself. At first, when it yielded no response, Severus thought that she had been too engrossed in her reading to notice. However, it soon became apparent that she was digesting his words and cautiously waiting for an opportune time to strike.

"The same can be said of you," she said in a non-committal tone before adding, "Which one?"

Will she not cease the childish pretence? He did not enjoy being egged on. "All of them, Professor Granger," he snarled, folding his arms with curling contemptuous lips.

"How many points?" she goaded, her eyes still scanning the pages of her book.

He watched her flip a page. "Enough for me to punish myself."

Her arch look foretold another one of her I-will-brook-no-nonsense speeches, which was fortunately dispelled by Remus and Dumbledore's heads at the fireplace.

"Give us ten minutes," said the Headmaster, chuckling at the expressions on the faces of his Potions Master and Arithmancy Mistress. "You know," he addressed Hermione, "You might find easier to throttle him after we've brought him back to life."

Hermione and Severus both ignored the tasteless second remark and bowed to acknowledge the first.

"They must be cut from the same cloth," laughed Remus at the sight.

"When a couple lives together for a while, they will begin to share some of their characteristics. Am I right, you two?"

"You have a vivid imagination," replied Hermione caustically.

Severus concurred. "It must be a figment of your imagination, Headmaster."

The older wizard's eyes sparkled as he shrugged. "Ten minutes," he reminded and he was gone.

"Impertinent old man!" cried Hermione in a frown as she bit her lower lip.

"He's always been like that – one gradually becomes inured to it." He sat opposite her, tracing his lips again.

"Just in case we don't succeed, what else can we do?" Hermione asked, her eyes dull with anxiety.

"You're the know-it-all, apprise me of your plans."

"This is my only plan," she quietly answered, enunciating each syllable carefully.

"According to your calculations, what is the worst case scenario?" he snapped impatiently.

"You'll disappear," she whispered.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "My soul would dissipate and this pathetic excuse of an existence would be over. You will have the dungeons again."

"Without you?" she whispered in a barely audible voice. Her eyes narrowed unnaturally at him.

"You will become inured to it as well," he casually intoned. "Professor Granger," he continued, pausing only to meet her imperious glare with his own. "Hermione, in the unlikely event that I am permanently banished from this existence, I want you to locate a note in my bedchamber."

"Why?"

"Why? Why?" he scoffed, mimicking her tone. "Because the sky is so high! Do not ask stupid questions!"

"I thought you had faith in my abilities," she muttered, furrowing her brows in disappointment.

"Do not put yourself out because of this. It is the mark of an evolved individual to be prepared for every eventuality."

"Wise words indeed," she answered in a clipped tone.

"Sometimes, I think it would be better for me to fade into oblivion."

"Why?"

"Nietzsche wrote that we wear mask upon mask – such are men of profound sadness. I will betray myself when happy; I will suffocate and stultify it from jealousy because I know it is intransient; I know it will flee."

"I have not fled," she said hoarsely in small voice.

"You have borne my accusations and lectures as no other woman would have," he said quietly with a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness. "My conduct has been wanting, yet you never reproached me. I have nothing to recommend me, yet you understand me."

Hermione laughed uncomfortably, squirming in her seat. "A new idle inclination, Severus? We shall continue this conversation later," she laughed while reaching over to pat his icy hands. "Remus and Professor Dumbledore are here."

Severus took her hand and pressed it earnestly in animation to leave her no doubt of his trust. Upon bearing witness to this conjugal sight, Remus coughed and Dumbledore chuckled, "Shall we begin?"

Footnotes

Fatum is Latin for fate. Its usage is deliberate.

The line with the following, "the untameable and unteachable spiritual fatum of premeditated decision and answer to predetermined selected questions" is quoted from Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil.