Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: My thanks to JK Rowling for having such a splendid imagination and for allowing us to play around with her characters in the fanfiction universe. She gets all the credit for anything you recognize; the plot for this story is entirely mine (though I don't get paid).

Chapter Eleven

The witch who appeared before him looked out of place in the dank, inhospitable surroundings. A breath of fresh air where none was to be had. He regretted she had to be brought here, but it was a necessary evil to meet somewhere out of the way, somewhere only a scant few people knew about...and it was highly improbable that any of them would be watching the place or stop by. In any case, Hermione Granger was finally a guest at his family home in Spinners End.

He could see recognition dawn in her eyes. Then those same eyes sparked in triumph, and he realized that she undoubtedly figured out it was him after viewing the papers his solicitor had sent. Both reactions were almost immediately replaced by obvious nervousness, however. He had forgotten how easily Gryffindors wore their emotions on their sleeves.

Her eyes skimmed quickly over his predictably black-cloaked form, from his limp, black, slick-straight hair down to his familiar hard-soled boots. Somewhere in between the two points, both hands braced the weight of his body upon a walking stick. It was too dark to tell much more, what with the stinginess of the street lamps. Still, it was definitely him.

She held her hands together tightly, willing them not to shake. She didn't want him to notice how nervous she was. It was one thing to come to the conclusion all on her own that S. Prince was Severus Snape, another thing altogether being face to face with the man. The man whom she had already decided to go into business with. What would it be like to go into business with a fugitive from the Ministry, she wondered.

"It is you." Her voice shook with the force of trying not to appear nervous.

"It is," he replied simply.

There was absolutely no derision in his voice at the obvious statement as she would have expected...well, as she would have expected from Professor Snape anyway. This man was no longer a professor and hadn't been for a number of years. She took a few hesitant steps forward, wondering if he was indeed to be trusted.

She remembered how Ron had described him at the last battle, described how Snape had even lowered his wand instead of fighting him; though that hadn't stopped Ron from using a Slicing Hex on his opponent. If the man before her had refused to fight one of her very friends, that in itself had volumes to say in favor of her being able to trust him now.

"We all thought you were dead." Her mind was spinning so fast with questions, it was all she was able to say at the moment, and it certainly didn't encompass all the thoughts that had passed through all of their minds soon after Voldemort had been defeated.

"That was rather the point. As you can see, I'm very much alive...a little worse for wear, but alive," he stated the obvious for her benefit.

By this time, she had finished the short walk to the bottom of the steps that led to the front door of the house. She decided that rather than ask another obvious question, she would simply assume this to be his house. It wasn't Secret Kept, that was for sure, since she could see it without him having to tell her its location. So why hadn't the Ministry found it? There were enough questions to be asked, however, that adding another would be tiresome. The questions were already prioritized in her brain...had been since she had received the solicitor's owl earlier that day. She was nothing if prepared.

Taking a deep breath, she shrugged away the rest of her nervousness and said, "Well, are you going to invite me inside?"

He smirked at her boldness, turned slightly to open the door, and waved her inside ahead of him with a sweep of a hand. She climbed the steps and brushed past him, entering the extremely modest house. The doorway led straight into an abbreviated sitting room of sorts. A chair and meager fireplace were its only occupants. She walked through to the next room, a bit larger though no less sparse in its furnishings. There were, however, a small sofa and a matching chair, probably last upholstered about a century ago. But she wasn't here to pass judgment on the way he chose to...had to?...live.

The door shut and locked, and she heard him walking unevenly behind her, the telltale sound of a cane hitting the floor every other step. A cane. That would make it three wizards she had seen in the last couple weeks who walked with a cane. She had heard someone say once that there was no such thing as coincidence....

"Have a seat, Miss Granger." He indicated the sofa, the less worn of the two pieces of furniture. "I'm sure you have a few questions for me."

"Yes, I do...uh, Mr. Snape ... or do you answer to Mr. Prince now?" That was the question at the top of her list.

He smiled faintly as if expecting that to be the first question. He waited until she had sat down, and then he seated himself in the chair across from her, balancing the head of his cane carefully against the arm. His preciseness in doing so drew her attention first to the hand performing the delicate task and then to the ebony stick, which was topped with a plain, round, silver head.... And all the questions she had queued up in her mind flew out the dusty window.

Her mind felt like a fast-moving car being thrown suddenly in reverse. Her arrested thoughts dangled her over the bottomless pit that had once been her stomach. Potions. The man who had saved her from the dangerous Mr. Burke could smell the ingredients of the potion lacing those muffins. Then, the very next day, receiving notice from S. Prince's solicitor. When was she going to finally learn that there was no such thing as coincidence?

Her throat suddenly felt very dry, and she wasn't sure she could get the next words out of her mouth without choking. If she thought she could at all swallow, she would be wishing for a very tall glass of water.

"You. You were the man in my shop the other night ... the one who stopped me from eating those poisonous muffins," she clarified so he wouldn't think she was accusing him of being the other. She could only hope that there was a smidgen of gratitude in that accusation so he wouldn't think her an ungrateful brat.

The vague smile dropped from his face, and his countenance became quite serious. Caught unprepared. He hadn't been expecting this so soon.

He nodded his head slowly. "I am that man," he answered matter-of-factly, "and I'm sure that poses a whole set of completely different questions."

"It sure does," she said, thoughts once again flooding her mind with a few more in tow. She was sure she was going to overlook something. "First of all, you said I'm in danger...and before you say anything, I took precautions before I came here with that in mind. Who exactly am I in danger from? I'm assuming that Mr. Burke isn't really Mr. Burke, and I assume you know who he is and why he wanted to harm me..." Or my baby, she thought to herself. "You said what mattered was what I did with the information, but you didn't tell me anything, really. I hardly know what to do!"

The mini-tirade put a smile back on his lips. "First of all, he didn't want to hurt you...well, he did want to hurt you, but indirectly. You have figured out what that potion would have done, haven't you? In fact, I believe you figured it out that very evening."

"Yes. It..." would have caused me to miscarry, she finished in her head. Then she realized that he was a Potions master and knew very well what those ingredients were used for.

"It would have caused you to lose your baby..." he finished for her emotionlessly, "quite painfully, I might add...thereby causing you great distress, both emotional and physical."

She looked down at the scuffed toes of her shoes and worked her hands in her lap. No one but Ginny and Alpin knew about her pregnancy. Well, apparently so had Mr. Burke, and now he did too. It wasn't much of a secret anymore if people who hardly knew her knew about it, now was it?

"Does the baby have a father, Miss Granger?" he asked, more for his own clarification than the reason he was about to give. "After all, if your life is in danger, that would make his life in danger as well."

"The baby has no father," she muttered, looking up at him finally.

"All babies have fathers," he countered, "just like all babies have mothers."

He dreaded hearing the answer, that Harry Potter was indeed the father of her baby. He had already drawn that conclusion, but for some reason, hearing it out loud would set it in stone, make it real, make it a fact that the boy who had always gotten under his skin was the father of Hermione's baby. Suddenly, he realized that he didn't really want to have that particular question answered tonight, which was just as well since it didn't seem like she had any plans on answering.

Very smoothly, he changed the subject. "To answer your question, I suppose you remember the last battle when Voldemort was destroyed ... and what you did."

Her eyes hardened. "Of course I remember. How could I forget? I still have nightmares about it."

"Right. I already know, but let's make sure we're on the same page here. Tell me the story you told the Aurors," he said.

It would have been easier to talk about her pregnancy, and suddenly she wished they were back on that topic. She felt tense, about to bare her soul to her ex-professor as she would a parish minister. She had tried to tell herself for so long that it wasn't her fault; after all, Lucius Malfoy had used the Imperio Curse on her. She felt responsible, however, for not being strong enough to break his hold on her.

She took in a lungful of air and exhaled forcefully, plunging right in. "I came upon Lucius Malfoy on the battlefield. He insulted me, of course, like he always did. I thought he was going to kill me, but instead of the Killing Curse, he used the Imperio Curse on me. He forced me to use the Killing Curse on him instead. I tried to fight it. I tried to push his desires out of my mind ... I tried to resist! In the end, I...I killed Lucius Malfoy."

He let that proclamation hang in the air for a dramatic moment as a precursor to what he had to say. "What if I told you that Lucius Malfoy didn't die?"

All the air left her body. She couldn't breathe. Gasping like a fish out of water, she weakly tried to form a response. "Wh...what do you mean he...he didn't die?"

Severus Snape stood up suddenly, and startled, she pushed away from him into the hard back of the bare-bones sofa.

"Care for a drink?" he asked and walked across the room into the kitchen when she nodded.

He returned with two tumblers of Firewhisky, well-iced, which she accepted more than gratefully, taking a moment to calm her nerves with a few steady swallows. Then he held his hand out to retrieve the tumbler from her shaking fingers.

"Pregnant women should monitor their alcohol intake," he offered as an explanation. "If I let you hold this, you may drink more than you should."

She nodded her acceptance, grateful his head was clear enough to remember her situation. To be honest, she had briefly forgotten she was pregnant, what with the shocking news. Pregnancy and shock didn't mix, and a spot of stabilizing drink couldn't hurt. When she seemed able to handle the full story, he continued.

"I'm sure you are aware that Lucius and I were friends. Before the last battle he shared with me his plan in the event that the Dark Lord's demise was imminent. He was going to find a Muggle-born and force that witch or wizard to kill him. He felt that if he was dead, the Ministry would leave his wife and son alone since they only had evidence on him. If he lived, they would be able to procure incriminating evidence that implicated both Narcissa and Draco as supporters of the Dark Lord. His desire was that his wife and son would remain in the same station they were accustomed to.

"I noticed when he found you on the battlefield. I saw the struggle you put forth when he had the Imperio Curse on you. I had come upon your friend, Mr. Weasley, at the time, and my attention was divided. Hence, the damaged muscle and nerves in my leg. That boy knows how to use Sectumsempra well; I'll give him that. After you had killed Lucius...or thought you had...I Disapparated with his body. I was going to return him to Narcissa, and then I realized he wasn't dead.

"At first, I didn't understand what had happened. I tended him for nearly a month until the Ministry lost interest in questioning the family of his whereabouts. They searched the manor for him, thinking Narcissa was hiding him. All that time, she feared he was dead. When I showed up with him at her door, at first she was overjoyed. But he was comatose. I wasn't really returning her husband. I was returning a shell of what he once was.

"I've thought on this often, and all I can figure is that your resistance to the Imperio Curse and not really wanting to use the Killing Curse put Lucius into a coma instead of killing him outright. I've visited Narcissa and Draco a few times since, and she has fallen into a deep depression. I doubt she'll ever recover.

"Needless to say, the Ministry froze the Malfoy's liquid assets, thinking that it would force them to betray Lucius's location. About all they have is the manor and whatever is in it. They had a stash of savings hidden somewhere, which I'm sure is used up by now.

"Are you still all right?" he asked. "There's more, but perhaps I should let you digest this much first.

Hermione nodded thankfully, reached for the tumbler of Firewhisky he still held in one hand, took only a couple modest swallows this time, and handed it back to him.

"I never knew..." she choked out through the Firewhisky-burn.

"No one does," he answered simply.

"It's not much solace, though. I mean, he's been in a coma ever since. It must be really hard for his wife and son to see him like this every day. He might as well be dead. In effect, I still killed him. But they couldn't know ... How would they know that mine was the wand who made him this way?"

He let her think out loud. It was a lot of information to give her all at once, and she needed to sit with it for a while. She was coming to conclusions all by herself without him having to help her along. He expected nothing else of a mind as great as hers had always been. Still, he wasn't prepared to tell her that Draco did indeed know it was her wand, that he had told Draco everything when he had brought Lucius home.

Going off on a bit of a tangent seemed to be in order. "You can call me Severus, by the way, since we are to be business partners. That is, if you are going to sign the papers."

"That's good," she answered, glad for the change in subject, "because the whole Mr. Snape-Mr. Prince thing was giving me a headache."

He laughed a little at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling where the skin had rarely before been creased. Obviously, there hadn't been much to laugh about, much less smile about, for a very long time.

"It gives me a headache, too," he answered truthfully. "My public persona has been that of Mr. Prince ever since the end of the war...well, ever since Dumbledore's death, to tell you the truth. Albus was the one who helped establish my alternate identity, as a matter of fact. He had the modest Prince fortune transferred to a new Gringotts account under my new name and thought it best that I keep my familial home since the Ministry knew nothing about it. The Ministry is still looking for Severus Snape, so I venture out heavily glamoured, and I am able to function as a member of wizarding society as Samuel Prince. I tend not to go out too often, so I'm rather unused to hearing the name."

"Well, Severus is much easier. Thank you," she answered.

The build-up of further questions was apparent in Hermione's eyes. As much as he had scorned her seemingly endless need for knowledge, it was one thing that he had always admired in her. It was refreshing to see that she hadn't lost the curiosity of her youth, no matter what difficulties she had had to endure.

"You're most welcome, Hermione. You don't mind that I call you by your first name as well, do you?" She shook her head no. "Good. Because calling you Miss Granger makes me feel like I should be your professor rather than your business partner."

"I'll sign the papers, by the way," she blurted out, eyes widening at the sudden admission. She knew she was going to sign the papers, but once said aloud, it sounded impetuous, not thought through, not exactly ... intelligent.

Severus' eyes widened a fraction. "So quickly? I'm surprised you trust me. You don't even know why..."

"Why you killed Professor Dumbledore?" she interrupted, unable to stop herself. "Of course I'd like to hear that story, but I long ago deduced that Professor Dumbledore had asked you to do it. In fact, his death had been instrumental in bringing about certain events much sooner than they would have happened otherwise. The war with Voldemort could have lasted for years...."

He nodded his head. "He did mention that. Know that Albus treated me like the son he never had. He was like a father to me. He took me in when I was at my lowest. Casting that Killing Curse was the hardest thing I ever had to do...and believe me, I've had to do some extremely difficult things in my role as Death Eater Spy.

"Albus had confided in me, about his search for Voldemort's Horcruxes. I was the one who had researched and found the location of the locket. Well ... the fake locket, as it turned out. The potion that one had to drink to retrieve the locket was real, however. I had told him it would be fatal...that it would result in a long, drawn-out, agonizing death. One for which there was no known cure. But, he had been resolved to do it. He wouldn't hear any arguments, as often as I tried to get him to listen to some sense. He said much the same you did, that his death would bring things to a culmination much sooner. There would be less loss of life, and that was more important in the end than the life of one lemon-sucking old codger like him."

Hermione sobbed out a laugh at that. It sounded exactly like something the headmaster would have said, and she suddenly felt the pang of his absence very dearly.

It was much as she had thought. Harry had told them of the search for the Horcrux that fateful night, and she had purposefully researched the locket, the location in which it was found, and the Inferi that guarded it. She had discovered that it used to be a common practice to protect something valuable by immersing it in a potion that would be fatal to the drinker. Of course, one in search of something that valuable usually intended to steal it, and a person like that generally wasn't above using the Imperio Curse to get another to drink the potion. Knowing the importance of the locket, Dumbledore had offered his life so that Harry wouldn't need to do so in the future.

After having found that bit of information, she had brought it to Harry ... mistakenly, as it turned out. He had not wanted to hear about poisoned potions. That would mean he had killed Dumbledore, not Snape. After all, Harry had been the one who forced the potion down the old wizard's throat.

Severus left her to her thoughts for a long while and passed the glass of Firewhisky to her after a few minutes, but she held up her hand. "No, thanks. I'm fine."

"I'm glad," he said and walked back into the kitchen to get rid of what was left of both of their drinks.

It was funny...odd funny, not laughingly funny...'glad' was not a word she would have thought to be in Severus Snape's vocabulary. Not Professor Snape anyway. She had to start distinguishing between that man and the one who was now rinsing the glasses in the small, stark kitchen. How very different, yet how very much the same, this man was. She supposed she had never known the man behind the professor.

He nodded at her when he came back into the room, taking notice of her thoughtful disposition. She looked overwhelmed, and although he was certain she wanted to ask more questions, he wasn't sure if it would be a wise thing to give her more to think about right now. She needed to fully absorb what he had told her first.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned that perhaps it all was a bit too much for her to handle in her condition.

"This is all a lot to take in," she admitted. "There's so much I want to find out, but I suppose if we are to be business partners, there will be a lot of time to talk."

The smooth skin at the corners of his eyes cracked once again. "True."

"So, partners then?" she asked.

"Partners," he answered. "Though, please, I must insist: no one but us need know who Samuel Prince really is. I don't want to draw unnecessary questions, ones that might damage your reputation. I've managed to stay out of public notice for quite some time, and I would like to keep it that way."

"Understood. I'll keep your identity a secret. I expect you'll be available for me to contact, to meet with on a regular basis?"

"Of course. We'll find a more ... convenient place to meet next time. Perhaps in the flat above your shop?" he added.

"Our shop." She smiled. "And, yes, that would be fine. We'll have a lot of work to do, though, if we are to increase business at the shop. I have a couple ideas, but never had the funds to realize them."

"Don't worry on that score. It will all be handled. Being the last of the Prince line, I have enough to contribute to the business venture, as well as a few ideas myself." He smiled.

She stood. "I suppose I should be leaving then, let you get back to ... whatever it is you would be doing," she said, waving a hand ineffectively in the air.

Their good-byes were friendlier than their hellos. Not that their hellos were unfriendly in any way. But both parted feeling a little more confident, a little more untroubled than they had felt before. And Severus actually felt happy that he had agreed to the meeting.

Hermione decided to use the figurine Portkey to return home. She was too tired to Apparate. It had been an exhausting evening. So much information all at once. Well, she had complained about having too little information to begin with, hadn't she? The thought made her smile. She would sign the papers and send them back to Mr. Everhart tomorrow with a nice little 'thank you' note on top.

She was so exhausted, in fact, that she had to force herself to get into her pyjamas and wash her face instead of just lying down on the bed and passing out. She tumbled into bed, dizzy from fatigue, her mind flitting about like an out-of-control Snitch. She had very nearly fallen asleep when it suddenly dawned on her that she had forgotten to find out from Severus exactly who Mr. Burke was. He had started to tell her, had told her the story of Lucius still being alive....

"Blast!" she swore aloud when it was obvious she wasn't going to fall asleep for a very long time.