Chapter 17: In Retrospect…

Chapter 17: In Retrospect…

“Um,” I began cautiously, my voice shaking with nervousness, “I thought it would be best to talk to all of you about this at once.”

“Just get on with it, Hermione,” Ron groaned from his slumped position in his chair.

“I had a relationship this year that I didn’t tell any of you about.” I paused, expecting questions, but when there were none, I cleared my throat and continued. “I guess it all started when I accepted an after-class internship with Professor Snape.” Assorted gasps and cringes met the utterance of his name.

“I naturally didn’t want to tell my friends about it because, well, you all know Ron and Harry’s attitude towards him. So I helped him prepare lesson materials for weeks. I was actually coming to learn that he wasn’t as bad as I had believed him to be. Over the course of those weeks, I stripped away the façade he put on while teaching and found out about the man underneath—” I paused, knowing the impact of my next words. “The man that Dumbledore trusted.

“One Saturday, I went in to help him because I had finished my homework. I have to admit that it was what I had come to regard as fun. So I went into his office to find him roaring drunk. I did my best to take care of him, but in his drunken state, he—well, he kissed me.”

Ron looked like he might throw up as the men at the table and Ginny yelled in protest to the information. Mrs. Weasley wearily quieted her children and urged me to continue.

“The next day he asked to talk to me after class. He told me he remembered nothing of the night before except that I was there, and I offered to let him use Legilimecy on me to see what happened. I was in no mood to explain it.”

“Hermione!” cried Harry. “You let him just invade your mind?”

“Yes, Harry, I did. It was easier that way. Anyway, the two of us realized our attraction to each other, and so we decided to try out the relationship.

“And so we were on again off again up until Christmas—”

“What about McLaggen? And the birds? And all that crying?” Ron nearly shrieked in disbelief.

“It was all about Snape. McLaggen was to make him jealous—I knew Snape hated him. Besides, he was an easy cover-up because you lot hate him too. I actually did like you for a bit, Ron, but I really hated how you were so happy with Lavender, hence the birds,” I replied somewhat dismissively before continuing.

“Then I lied to the both of you, saying I’d be skiing with my parents, and I told my parents that I’d be at the Burrow over the winter holidays. But instead, I stayed at the castle with Sever—Snape.” Ron made a disgusted sound deep in his throat, and I ignored him. “And we—we—”

“Yes?” Urged Charlie.

“We had sex,” I mumbled, staring at my folded hands. There was an uproarious response to this. Charlie, Bill, Fred and George stood up in anger, not for my sake but for how much they detested Snape. All the rest were angry on my behalf. Mrs. Weasley quieted them once more.

“Let the girl continue,” she muttered. They all obeyed and sat obsequiously.

“Well, I was really scared by what I had done—consensually, mind you—so I wrote him a letter telling him that for the time being, we should separate. A few months passed, and I discovered that we had overlooked something.” Everyone leaned forward in suspense. “I met him at the Hog’s Head a few days before the battle at Hogwarts and told him that I was pregnant, which I am.” I finished in as much of a matter-of-fact voice that I could.

There was a stunned silence. Every listener was in various states of shock. There were a few throat clearings before Mr. Weasley spoke quietly.

“Do you know anything about his loyalty, Hermione?”

“Unfortunately, no. We never spoke about that. Except for once—when he told me that he would die from guilt if he ever joined the Dark Side for good—because of everything Dumbledore has done for him.”

“Lies are so easy spoken to the eyes of a lover,” Ginny recited, staring fixedly at a shard of the broken flower vase.

“It wasn’t a lie,” I said dangerously, injecting as much fury as possible into the few syllables I had to work with.

“How do you know, Hermione?” Harry asked with conviction. “I mean, he was probably only using you!”

“Harry, I think I would be able to determine that for myself, having actually been there.”

“There you go defending the man who killed Dumbledore,” Harry said, staring at me frankly with his piercing, green eyes.

“Listen,” I ventured quietly, “I think it’s safe to say that I know Snape better than any of you. And I’m convinced that there must be some other explanation—”

“You just say that because Snape banged you,” Ron interrupted. His ears were turning red. Mrs. Weasley cringed at his vulgarity but said nothing.

“Ronald!” Ginny admonished.

“Anyway,” continued Mrs. Weasley, “was that letter from him?”

“There are many parts of this story that I’ve chosen to keep to myself. That is one of those aspects,” I replied gently, standing. “If you all don’t mind, I need some time to think. I’ll be in my room.” I began to walk out the door, but I did not get far before the soft, brown owl fluttered over to sit delicately on my shoulder.

I placed the gentle creature in my room to rest, and then I snuck back downstairs to eavesdrop for a bit.

“Nevertheless,” I heard Bill’s voice, “Dumbledore remains dead.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Weasley, “but I think that if Hermione trusts him—”

“Oh, Mum,” scoffed Charlie, “she’s just a silly, young girl. She doesn’t know anything about the dark, inner workings of someone like that.”

“She did spend months getting to know him,” stated Ginny.

“A man like that takes more than a lifetime to unravel! He’s a spy, Ginny, a bleeding spy!” Bill cried.

At that point, I had had enough. I returned to my room with tears streaming down my face. I collapsed onto my bed and sobbed into my down pillow that was hot from the summer day. I fell deeply asleep to the rhythmic coos of the owl.