Christmas at Cillian’s

A huge thank you to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, for reading this over for me, Proulxes for the Britpick, and to Lady_Rayne and Phoenix for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate the beta help. Thank you very much.

Also, smooches and a big thank you to Jay for my banner! I really love it.

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~o39o~

Christmas at Cillian's

Hermione woke up slowly as the drowsiness she felt dissipated. She turned her head, taking in her surroundings, saddened that she was alone in the huge Jacobean style bed. She rolled to her side, wondering what time it was and when Severus had arisen. The black sheets and thick comforter of gold patterns on black were luxuriously soft and warm. The black and tan damask drapes had been tied back, and Hermione could see grey skies through the window. Cillian's house, she sighed. The events of the last few days washed over her, and she lay there contemplating it all.

Realizing she had to get up, Hermione sat up and was surprised to see presents at the foot of her bed. Oh, that's right, it's Christmas morning, she thought matter-of-factly as she reached for her presents, except that the realization saddened her instead of the normal exuberance she usually felt each Christmas morning.

She picked up the first gift, a book, discernible even through the wrapping. Ginny always bought me a book, although it was unlikely this was from her. As she peeled back the wrapping, her thoughts were on her friends. Ginny and Tinko might be exchanging gifts, wherever they are, and Janilynn and Jenny would be, too, since they are with Seamus. She wondered what Harry and Ron might be doing this morning and where they might be hiding. She doubted they were exchanging gifts, well, maybe – it was unlikely they were considering their circumstances – but she hoped that they were staying safe and well hidden. Hermione knew that her Slytherin friends, Glenwynn, Felicia and Adriana wouldn't be; they'd celebrated Winter Solstice this year instead.

She thought of Breanna's note and the gloves she had given her with a saddened heart, remembering Glenwynn's, Felicia's and Breanna's reactions when the Dark Lord marked her. If they are still my friends. Ginny will forgive me for the Mark, but the others... Would they still be my friends? Did they know her well enough to realize her position and that it was thrust on her against her will? She hoped she could convince them.

She looked at the book in her hands.

The words on the spine were written in old English, The Magike and Dweomercraft of Myrddin of Britanniae. She smiled in delight. She ran her fingers along the aged leather binding of the book and then opened up to the front leaf to read the inscription on the facing page, but found none. She turned to the index and found a marker with the picture of the thirteenth century 'Merlin', by Robert de Boron. The inscription on the marker read only, Happy Christmas, Hermione, in Severus' writing. Her smile widened, and she felt his absence even more keenly.

She thumbed through the book, loving the texture of the old velum pages and handwritten script. It was a very old book on ancient charms and transfigurations written in Anglo-Saxon runes and old English and beautifully illustrated. It would take some doing, but she'd translate it.

She set the book aside and opened the next gift, revealing a chocolate brown, tan and burnt orange pashmina scarf from Cillian. She frowned. How ironic. The same man who had her freezing to death outside his house after she had been cursed by the Dark Lord gave her a soft, luxurious scarf to keep her warm. Hermione closed her eyes. She supposed she understood why he'd been so angry, but really. She tightened her fingers on the soft wool.

She hadn't consciously defected; she'd been hit with the Imperius Curse, her life threatened, Severus or Cillian had been nowhere to be seen, Belinda and Bellatrix closing in, and she'd panicked. I came back! It was dangerous; I could've been killed, but I came back. The Dark Lord nearly froze me to death, and then Cillian made me sit outside on a snow-covered iron chair as he ranted at me about my defection – my supposed defection – as if I had had any choice in the matter! It was bloody cold, and he knew the effects of the curse – he keeps the antidote on hand! Even Dianne knew what curse the Dark Lord used – so she's seen the effects – she knew what I was going through.

She growled in frustration. Of course running away like that could have cost Severus his life, she knew that, and it could have possibly endangered Cillian's life and his family's as well. The Dark Lord had called Cillian her guardian. Severus was her keeper, her gaoler, Cillian her guardian, and she their prisoner.

She looked at her mark, her Dark Mark. The Dark Lord had changed both of their Marks, joined Severus' and Cillian's somehow to her own. A lion trapped in the twisted coils of the snake; the symbol of it not at all lost on Hermione.

She turned her head, staring at the grey rain clouds outside the windows.

She covered her face with the soft warmth of the scarf and screamed silently in frustration. She breathed in a couple of times, feeling her sadness threaten to overwhelm her. Christmas is supposed to be about love and warmth and affection and... family. And she had none of those things here. She had never felt so alone. She wondered how Ron and Harry were, as well as the others in the forest. She thought about the Weasleys and her other friends from school.

Hermione reached for the next gift and tore off the wrapping. Inside were two Honeydukes boxes; the box of Sugar Quills had a small card signed with Jenny's right-slanted script, and Tinko's precise left-slanted script was on the gift tag of the Flossing Mints. She opened the next present; Janilynn sent her a box of Pepper Imps and more Flossing Mints. She opened up the last gift and stared at it in amazement: a lovely box that held a sachet and a book, Witchtales and Magical Legends and Folkloric Fantasy. The card read: To make you smile when you're feeling down. Mum used to read these to me. I marked my favorites for you. Ginny.

How did they...? Hermione looked at the door, then back at the gift tags in amazed wonderment. How could they have? Peren? Does she know where we are? The only logical explanation was either Severus or Cillian had brought her gifts here... unless Peren had managed to find Cillian's Secret-kept, Fidelius hidden house, which had every known Muggle-repelling and anti-Muggle spell. Impossible, isn't it? It had to be either Severus or Cillian.

She wrapped the scarf around her neck and picked up the last parcel, something wrapped up tightly in linen and tied with a ribbon. She pulled on the ends of the bow, and the parcel literally fell open, revealing a handmade tea cozy, which had indeed been folded tightly and wrapped in a handmade handkerchief, both embroidered with an elaborate H. A tiny piece of parchment read:

Happy Christmas, Mistress

from your Peren

Hermione picked up her book from Severus, her shoulders sagged, and she started to cry, holding the tea cozy and the book against her chest.

~S~

Severus left the library to see if Hermione was awake yet. She had been so exhausted last night that the girl had fallen asleep immediately and had barely moved at all in her sleep. It had been disconcerting to wake up and see her still on her side of the bed, almost in the same position as she'd fallen asleep in, instead of sprawled over his person as she usually did.

He could understand her exhaustion; he had no idea how much sleep, if any, she'd had on her run. She had been with Potter and Weasley one night, but he refused to think they did anything more than talk, catching up on what had happened to them since their parting the end of June. No, the strain on Hermione's face and dark circles under her eyes indicated she'd gotten little sleep if any. However, she'd been quite receptive to his advances after her bath, which pleased him.

He smiled smugly at the memory of taking her in front of the mirror, being able to not only see himself thrust into her lush body as she bent over the bathroom counter but to also watching her expressions in her reflection. His body immediately reacted at the memory. And then to have her timidly initiate sex after they had adjourned to bed. She was still quite innocent when it came to sex, her coy glances as she bit her lip, tentative soft touches, and gentle hesitant kiss that became more assertive as he responded to her. He encouraged her to take charge, to direct him in what she wanted. He loved her responsiveness, her mewed moans of pleasure and the way he could make her cry out his name in the throes of passion.

Even though he knew she needed the rest, he hoped she wouldn't sleep away the entire day. She'd already missed breakfast, and Ella was about to serve lunch.

As he entered their bedroom, he was pleased to see she was up. He smiled inwardly at the sight of her sitting on the bed, a mass of crumpled paper around her, wearing a new scarf and hugging his book and what looked like a chintz... pillow, and she was... Bloody hell, she was crying!

Why was she crying?

He stared at her, utterly dumfounded. She'd been fine yesterday. What could possibly have happened to make her cry? He knew that no one had been to their room; everyone else in the house were still downstairs. No one outside the house knew she was here, well, except for her house-elf, Peren. Peren and Dobby were the only house-elves who knew about the island, and both promised to keep it secret. An elf's promise was as binding to them as an Unbreakable Vow; they'd been known to blackout or swallow their tongues rather than divulge a secret.

Hermione turned, smiling, and he was confused by – but pleased to see – her smile; however, the contradiction of the two disparate emotions only baffled him more. She wiped her face and dropped the book and pillow on the comforter as scrambled from the bed.

He watched her as she ran up to him and flung her arms about his person. He instinctively hugged her back, still trying to ponder the reason for her tears.

"Thank you, I love my book," she exclaimed, leaning back to gaze up at him and rising up on her toes to kiss him.

"And that made you cry?" he asked as he leaned back to look at her face.

She shook her head and rested her cheek against his chest, hugging him again.

Then what made you cry? "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She shook her head again and wiped her eyes. "It's Christmas," she said softly.

"And do you often cry on Christmas?" he asked. He'd known that some women did, for unfathomable reasons or for long held hurts known only to them. His own mother used to cry at Christmas.

"No," she said, muffled by his coat.

He took hold of her arms and held her away from him so he could look her in the eyes. She shrugged, looking down at his buttons, so he cocked an eyebrow at her and waited silently, a technique that usually got the students to say more. Something. Anything. "No?" he asked, about to give up.

"I was thinking about my friends, and everything, and... well, I miss them. I miss my mum and dad. I miss... well, everything."

"Oh," he said, tensing up at this admission from her, although he relaxed as he hugged her when she hugged him back. No, it wasn't an ideal Christmas. He felt slightly guilty, this being their first Christmas together, but under the circumstances it was the best he could do. At least she liked his book, although he'd never admit to her on how he'd acquired it. "Lunch will be served soon."

She pulled back again and looked up at him, then looked down, fingering his buttons.

"What?"

"Couldn't we, um, be by ourselves for a while?" she asked, still staring at his buttons.

"It would be rude," he started to say, considering whether or not to humor her request and join her in bed. "Maybe later."

She nodded again, lowering her head as she turned away to hide her disappointment.

Her utter compliance, while making his situation easier, bothered him. He hated the fact that because of her imprisonment he was forced to keep her so tightly under his thumb, and he hated the times it seemed she'd lost her spirit. "Go wash your face and change. I'll wait," he said, walking over to a chair, his mind already sorting through possible outlets of where to be alone with her. Taking her anywhere had the potential for complications. His house was out of the question – the castle was not an optimal option either. She wore the Skrewt jewelry, minus her earrings, but they couldn't go anywhere magical for fear they'd be seen. Still, it felt good to his ego that she desired his company.

When Hermione joined him in the sitting area of their room, she was wearing the same robes as yesterday. "I don't have any other clothes," she replied, spreading out the skirt of her robe as she looked down.

He realized that she was right. The bags Peren had packed were at his house. She didn't have warm winter wear. Damn, I'll have to rectify that. He would have to come up with something, and he wasn't going to trust Cillian's tastes. In the mean time, he'd go to Spinner's Ends and get their bags.

He handed her the earring Macnair had found outside Grimmauld Place.

"You found it!" she exclaimed exuberantly.

"Yes," he said, surprised by her reaction. Even though the light pewter grey had an iridescent sheen, he thought they were ugly.

She hurried over to the dressing table and put on the other one, smiling when she faced him.

He raised his eyebrows and his lips curved slightly, bemused that she liked the ugly things so much. "Let's go," he said, getting up.

~H~

Christmas Day had passed uneventfully. Ella had produced a lovely roast goose with the traditional fixings and side dishes, and the tension within the house had dissipated enough for them to have a festive family style Christmas day. Hermione made no effort to press Cillian and Dianne about the Dark Lord, opting to try and enjoy the time spent with the Henleys, Cillian and Severus.

However, knowing the urgency of turning Cillian before they returned to Hogwarts, and that she only had six days to manage her task, Hermione had sought out Cillian at every opportunity over the last three days to talk to him. Thankfully, the weather had seemed to be in her favor; sleet had quickly rolled through, becoming snow flurries, and the bitter cold wind had kept everyone inside the large house. Cillian, in order to avoid the impending argument, had rarely left Dianne's side or he'd get frustrated with Hermione and leave. Today however, the weather had improved; it was a glorious Monday morning, unfortunately.

Hermione sought out Cillian, finding him reading a book in the Long Salon while Dianne knitted in the chair beside him. Hermione approached. She hoped he'd not leave the house if she tried convincing him to change his loyalties and join her side in the war.

"No, Hermione, I'm not going to discuss this further," Cillian snapped when Hermione sat in a wicker chair facing him with a steaming mug of cocoa, wearing her new scarf and one of Severus' robes over the dress Dianne had lent her.

She had tried every argument she could think of to make Cillian see that it was possible, that he could be on the right side and still not be a deserter. However, she was getting nowhere. And Dianne also resented her efforts to persuade him and scowled at Hermione frequently or admonished her for her nonsense, afraid she was trying to get her lover killed. "But you can," Hermione persisted. Let's try this tact. "It wouldn't be that hard if you knew Occlumency."

"The Dark Lord always knows when someone is lying to him," Cillian insisted flatly.

"But Severus..." She caught herself before divulging anything she shouldn't, but he turned sharply, staring at her.

His smirk darkened, twisting his face as he stared at her. "Severus is a loyal follower, Hermione, one of the Dark Lord's most trusted."

"And a spy for Dumbledore and the Order," she said, knowing that he already knew that.

"He was able to spy on the old man for the Dark Lord," Cillian said, his eyes narrowing. "He was the Dark Lord's eyes and ears into the old man's plans."

"Will you let it rest already, he's not..." Dianne started to say but Hermione ignored her outburst.

"And that could never work the other way around, could it? – spying on the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters for Dumbledore and the Order, keeping your true self carefully concealed behind emotionless shields," she said in a offhanded way with a flip of her hand.

Dianne scowled at her and then placed a hand on Cillian's arm. "Don't listen to her; she's talking madness that will only get you killed."

But Hermione pressed on as if she hadn't spoken. "If you're a good enough Occlumens, you could conceal what you want to hide by anticipating what he might want to see, circumventing and outwitting him by misdirection, tucking what you don't want him to know about behind that which he already knows or hiding it altogether."

"Stop this – stop it – stop it!" Dianne cried out, hitting the table with a fist.

"But to do that you'd have to be rather clever, wouldn't you?" Hermione said, talking over Dianne, her head quirked and looking at Cillian with a cheeky grin. "Because it would take intelligence, cunning and a tremendous strength of will..."

He regarded her, his brown eyes boring into hers. "It can't – it wouldn't work," he said, correcting himself. "It's impossible to lie to him."

"Really," Hermione said with as much bravado as she could. "I have."

He jerked back a bit in his chair. "No, you have not!" he snapped.

"I have been able to hide things from him," she replied, tilting her chin up slightly with a self-satisfied smile as she'd seen Pansy do. "There are things between Severus and I that he hasn't seen..."

"He's hardly interested in Severus' sex life," Cillian injected as she added, "...and things between Ginny and myself."

Hermione made a smug little smile and stared at him from under her lashes. "What makes you think I'm talking about my sex life? I've easily hidden my conversations with friends from the Dark Lord, conversations with Jenny, Neville and Seamus." There. That should get him.

"I know where you are and what you're doing, and you are certainly not participating in their rule breaking and miscreant behavior," he said sternly.

"Are you sure?" Hermione said as coyly as possible. "You don't follow me everywhere. I know quite a few things the Dark Lord would kill for – has killed for to obtain. I know quite a few secrets. In the end it will come down to him and Harry. The prophecy he wanted two years ago said so."

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he regarded her. "What do you know about the prophecy?"

Hermione tilted her chin up slightly and looked him straight in the eye, challenging him.

He leaned closer even though Dianne tried to restrain him. "I can find it," he snarled as he drew his wand. "Legilimens."

Hermione barely had time to brace herself, but it didn't matter. By now the castle in her mind was as well organized as her old habit of placing things in books had ever been, maybe even better. He pushed and shoved, trying to navigate, finding only her everyday activities and emotions, but nothing that she knew that he didn't already know. "Where are the memories of the conversations with your friends?" he snarled, "Where are the private talks?"

"Hidden," she said as he entered her mind again, and she fought against him. They struggled for what seemed the longest time, Cillian pushing and delving through her mind for anything he could find while Hermione impeded his search, keeping him out of any of the secret 'rooms' in her palace.

All the things she didn't want him to know were completely segregated away, hidden: all the private times with her friends or Severus, the use of the mirrors, anything related to the Horcruxes, seeing Ron and Harry – everything related to the Order and the DA. Hidden. She could tell he was getting frustrated because she knew that he knew of certain memories, moments of which he was aware of but couldn't find. She smiled smugly, knowing that his inability to find anything would only prove her ability.

"Where are the conversations with Ginny in her dorm room?" he snarled, pulling and following images of Ginny and Hermione talking either in the corridor or in the common room, but her memories involving Ginny went no further than the common areas. "The day Jenny Wang talked to you in that compact mirror, where is it? What were you doing?"

Flashes of Jenny's image in the common room, in Charms Club, in the library, at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, flickered quickly in Hermione's mind with each demand, infused with feelings of friendship and happiness... but Cillian's anger grew the more he searched.

"You were crying that day... Your eyelashes were clumpy – what were you doing?" he asked, and she saw herself looking up at him in her mind, feeling relieved and happy about seeing and talking to Harry and Ron, but fortunately, her memories stayed focused on Cillian's face and his expressions.

"You and your little friends, you were up to something... and you lied to me about it." His onslaught hurt, like something tearing through her mind, but the rooms of her memory castle held firm, a solid fortress for her thoughts, emotions and memories.

Finally, he pulled back, the force like a fist that made her fall back in her chair.

"How – why? How can you keep those things hidden from me?" he demanded.

Dianne was watching with a look of absolute bewilderment as her gaze flicked back and forth between Cillian and Hermione.

"Why do you think?" Hermione snapped back, and Dianne looked at her, then at him in confusion. "I know things – and if you want me to tell you – I will have to know that I can trust you. That you are finally on the same side and not a threat!"

"Insolent wench," he snarled angrily, but Dianne put her hand on his arm again.

"Cillian, you told me it can't be done, that nothing can be kept from the Dark Lord... but what if she has? What if it can be done? She said that she's defied him."

"It can't be done! I know! I've seen what happens to people who try," he said, stressed, aggravated. "The last to try was fed to his snake."

Hermione stood her ground. "Do you really think that I am sooo exceptional that I'm the only one who is able to hide things from him?"

"You can't hide things from the Dark Lord," he said his voice raised, but the conviction wasn't as strong as before.

"I just hid everything from you! Everything I didn't want you to see – it's hidden."

"I am not the Dark Lord," Cillian countered. "He has powers far beyond my own..."

Hermione snorted. "Do you really think that I would be still alive if the Dark Lord knew how much I still hated him and was fighting against him?"

He glared at her; she stared imploringly back. Merlin's balls but she wanted to tell him that Severus defied the Dark Lord – that he was actually on the right side in all this.

She was getting nowhere. "All right... What happens if he wins? How long will you be able to keep Dianne safe?" she asked, the same argument, but one she knew he was concerned about. "How will she feel when you have to take an acceptable witch as your bride so you can produce proper pure-blood offspring?"

His expression darkened, his body became even more rigid as he turned his head away. Dianne pulled at the corner of her scarf, looking down at her hands, her expression somber.

Oops, that had struck a nerve. "Or are you willing to stand up and fight for those you love, for what you think is right and help the right side win?" she asked. Again. "I'm not saying to desert him – you're right – that's suicide. But think about this: you're clever; Slytherins are cunning and prudent..."

His eyes narrowed again as he interrupted her, "Defying him is not smart."

"Well, no, you're right, not overtly," Hermione agreed. "All I'm saying is help me." She leaned forward slightly. "Help us! My friends are fighting to keep the students out of Filch's chains, out of his torture devices. You know that he hangs kids up to his wall with his shackles. Filch even set up a pillory in the Entrance Hall and hung three gibbet cages from the ceiling, and it's only a matter of time before he uses them. Or before Alecto starts flogging students with her riding crop, and Amycus uses his curses on us. Or worse! Unforgivables."

"No! They wouldn't," Dianne gasped in shock. "Cillian? Tell me they don't."

"Torturing students is now condoned at Hogwarts," Hermione persisted.

"No, Cillian, tell me it isn't," Dianne stammered.

"It is not condoned," Cillian said through clenched teeth.

"Alecto does it all the time!" Hermione snapped, and Cillian turned his head away and a tick showed in his jaw as Hermione turned to Dianne. "I've had my hands beaten with a ruler, the metal side, until they bled. Amycus and Alecto have knocked me backwards out of my seat with curses. Cillian stopped them when it got too bad, but they are mental!"

Cillian's head turned back sharply and he snarled, "Stop this!" but she continued anyway.

"Alecto is malicious and inexorable, Amycus is just as malevolent, and Filch is sadistic! Who knows what the Carrows would do if allowed to – what they'd allow Filch to do? And the Dark Lord knows and does nothing about it. Many of the parents have to know, and they don't do anything about it. I've seen the hospital; it is three times the size, has over thirty to forty beds now, and it's always full."

"But, no, you can't be right," Dianne said and turned to Cillian. "Cillian, she can't be telling the truth?"

"I'm not exaggerating! The hospital expands to accommodate the needs of the school, right, Cillian? You told me that," Hermione said, drawing him back into the conversation. "All I'm saying is that right is right and wrong is wrong, and turning a blind eye makes you just as guilty as the malicious sadomasochists torturing and killing children all because they are considered undesirable by some narcissistic megalomaniac tyrant."

Cillian got up fast, making the chair almost tumble over. He set his fists on the table as he leaned forward. "So what would you have me do? Turn a blind eye while you deface the school walls and let you wander around the school, spouting all this to the other students, recruiting for an army whose leader is dead? I can't."

"Harry is the leader of Dumbledore's Army – he always has been! There are a few of the members still in the castle carrying on, but beside writing slogans on the wall and posting flyers, what exactly are they doing wrong? Is saving kids from shackles and chains wrong? Really? You know that those kids end up in the hospital!"

"Cillian, is this true?" Dianne asked, her eyes wide with concern.

"Yes, it's true, damn it, but I can't do anything to..." He stood, and ran his hands over his face. "It's impossible. What she wants is impossible."

"No, Cillian, it isn't," Hermione said, standing up. "There are others, good people like yourself who are finding ways to help those who are being hurt. There are those who are in the same situation and hoping that Harry and the Order win so that life can go back to the way it was before He came back. I'm not saying it's easy, but it is being done and..."

"Who? Tell me one person who is?"

"If you really think about it, I think you already know," Hermione stated.

He glared at her, his eyes searching her face for the answer. She knew he knew, just as Severus knew that he was wavering, that he wasn't a staunch supporter of the cause. Damn, why can't Severus just tell him? It would make all the difference. But still she could not say the words; Severus had specifically ordered her not to reveal his true loyalties. Cillian pressed forward, looming over her, his brown eyes boring into her own, scrutinizing her, evaluating, and she knew he was wavering – she could see it in his eyes.

He hit the table with his hand. "NO! I will not help you defy the Dark Lord and break the rules. Forget it." He stormed out of the room with Dianne running after him.

Bugger. Hermione collapsed back onto the chair and covered her face in her hands. His loyalty to Dianne and his need to protect her and her family stood in his way. It was a risk that he simply would not take. Bugger, bugger. I almost... Bugger. She felt an overwhelming sense of dejection. That was her best shot – and she had almost had him before he had pulled away. Once again she had failed, failed Severus, and the effort had exhausted her. She sighed. Severus would be so disappointed in her.

Abruptly, there was a noise in the doorway, and she jerked back in her seat to see Severus framed in the doorway.

~S~

Severus frowned at seeing Hermione's slumped shoulders and crestfallen expression, but he understood her frustration and disappointment. He stood somewhat awkwardly for a moment, making up his mind, and then he held out his hand to her. "Come with me," he said.

Hermione sighed dejectedly and quietly followed him up to their room. Her blouse, jeans and the jumper she'd worn during her time with her friends and a black coat, one he'd had at Spinner's End in his wardrobe from the seventies that he had altered magically to fit her, lay on the bed. She examined the left sleeve of the jumper and blouse, quirked her mouth at how Ella had tried to mend them.

He wondered what she was thinking. The slight smile on her face, didn't hide the disheartened look in her eyes, solidified his decision.

"Change. We're going out."

She looked at him but did as he asked. She dressed quickly, keeping her back to him. She turned to reach for her boots she'd been wearing the day she returned to him, and he smiled appreciatively at the way her jeans hugged her bum. After lacing the boots, she stood and put on the coat, then looked at him in anticipation, ready to go wherever he wanted to go.

~H~

Severus had whisked her away to Keswick, in the Lake District of Northern England. Of all the places he could have chosen, she was utterly delighted to be here. She'd been here with her parents, and it was such a lovely town, one of the most picturesque lakes in the Lake District. Its buildings were mostly constructed from the rich, grey granite stone found in the area. Her mum had loved Keswick, and Main Street had a variety of shops, tearooms, coffee houses and galleries on the pedestrian market square. Hermione smiled happily as they walked through the snow-lined streets toward the central Market Square, avoiding the snowdrifts and icy patches.

She squeezed Severus' arm as they walked casually down Main Street. "Did you know that Keswick is home to the world's largest pencil?" she asked, giggling at his incredulously raised eyebrow.

"And in the Keswick Mining Museum, they have exhibits that show how the Lake District was formed, how the mineral veins occurred, how Fossils formed and what life was like when Dinosaurs walked the Earth. They even have a Crystal Cave where the glowing rocks of the fluorescent minerals are displayed."

His disparaging response, "Insufferable know-it-all...." was almost inaudible, but he squeezed her arm and his lip curled up slightly, and she knew he was joking.

Hermione and Severus walked down Main Street like a typical Muggle couple. He'd changed his frockcoat for a shorter, heavier leather coat, and Hermione had on her new scarf over her jumper and his retro-style coat, not that it helped with the cold much, but she didn't complain. He'd asked her how things were going with Cillian, frowning at her lack of success, but refusing her continued pleas (if turning his head and clenching his jaw counted as refusing) to divulge his true loyalty to his best friend. It just seemed crackers that he refused to speak with Cillian when he was so close. What was he afraid of? Certainly his best friend wouldn't turn him over to the Dark Lord.

Of course they went into Bookends Bookshop and browsed the shelves. Most of the shelves were waist high, the room walls lined with taller shelves, all crammed with books. Although Severus stayed close, keeping her in sight most of the time, he was clearly as engrossed in his book hunting as she was. She'd smiled at his display of trust. He obviously knew that she'd not run from him again – there was too much at stake – and she knew he had to remain as Headmaster.

He offered to let Hermione chose three new Muggle novels for light reading, The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett, Caribbean by James A. Michener and The Fourth Estate by Jeffrey Archer and selected several novels and books for himself. Out on the street he shrunk their books and slipped them into his pocket.

She paused again as they left the bookshop, looking longingly across the road at Fat Face. He stopped, watching her as if reading her face. "Yes?"

"I..." she started to say, wondering how much he'd allow her. His eyebrow rose, so she went ahead and asked. "I'd like to replace the clothes the Dark Lord ruined."

He nodded, crossed the street and walked to the door. He opened it for her, and she sighed in relief. He waited patiently as she looked about. She found several blouses: a practical white Chambray shirt, a long-sleeve champagne blouse with pretty stitching and mother-of-pearl buttons and a long-sleeve shirt with embroidery embellishments. Severus looked over her shoulder at the two she held up as she decided. "I can afford them," he said softly.

"But, one is more practical than the other," she replied, "and I can wear it at school." He simply raised his eyebrow again, so she asked the shop assistant where she could try them on, walking to the back where he'd pointed.

Severus handed her two blouses as she stepped from the fitting room. "Try these," he said, taking the three she'd tried on.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at the blouses. They were pretty and somewhat dressy: the red one had a scoop neck and small ruffle at the wrist, which wasn't her usual style, and the aqua blue one had a keyhole neckline, flared sleeves. Both fit her nicely, but she liked the red one better, so she put the aqua one on the return rack.

She tempted fate and tried on several things, finally relaxing and even tried on a few items merely for fun. She discarded most of them, keeping a long-sleeve blue and white Henley T-shirt and the two shirts and two blouses in her dressing room, not sure if she should be considering so many Muggle clothes.

She liked one pair of black jeans quite a bit; they were comfortable and fit so well, and she liked the tan waffle knit long-sleeve T-shirt with the tiny daises and even tried a russet fleece lined hoodie.

Severus watched her admire the fit with an indiscernible expression. "Get those too," he said with a nod.

"Are you sure?" she asked, uncertain if she should.

"Yes. Are you finished?" he asked, handing the two shirts, two blouses, two long-sleeve T-shirts, the jeans and the fleece hoodie to the sales associate.

Hermione nodded and waited as he paid for her clothes, taken aback by his generosity. She almost felt guilty with all her new clothes, considering that only yesterday he'd been angry with her, but she had to admit, she'd enjoyed herself. He'd been so patient with her, watching as if detached, yet reading her as if using Legilimency, and buying all the items she'd really wanted to have.

They strode casually up Main Street, Hermione clutching her bags. As they approached the Market Square, Hermione could see Moot Hall up ahead; with its grey stone walls outlined with pale quoins and the famous one hand clock on its bell tower, it stood out like a beacon in Keswick's pedestrianised shopping area.

The day was bright but cold; a sharp breeze caused her to shiver as she walked beside him, and her steps faltered as her eyes were drawn to the warm looking jumpers and coats in the window display of the Edinburgh Woollen Mill shop.

Severus looked at her and smirked. "Might as well ask?"

"You've bought me so much already," she replied, turning to go.

"But you like the sweater?" he asked softly. "Hermione, if you need a sweater to replace the one he severed, tell me."

She nodded and shrugged, not wanting to be too extravagant. "I think Ella did an okay job repairing this one," she replied, touching the wool knit of her jumper.

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "That's not what I asked you," he said.

"But these are Muggle clothes," she said, clasping her bags in front of her. The deep burgundy Duffel coat with the wooden toggles on display was lovely as was the Scottish Arran knit jumper. Hermione wrapped her arms around her to fend off the chill.

"And the Henley's are Muggles. We are going to be there for the week, and you need to have clothes. I told you I can afford them," he said, getting impatient with her. "Besides, you normally wear Muggle clothes when you're revising on the weekends, don't you?"

Her lower lip slipped out from under her teeth as she smiled. "Yes, normally. Okay."

He opened the door and she preceded him in. She looked around, fingering the sweaters, judging the quality of the knit as her mum used to do. Thinking of her mother, Hermione had to bite back the tears that threatened to fill her eyes. She wouldn't cry; she had to believe they were all right, but she missed her parents terribly.

Moving slowly around the display of knitwear, she saw a very nice Scottish Arran jumper in a dark oatmeal color, and on another display table, a lovely brown cardigan with carved wood buttons that she liked as well.

"Which will it be, Miss?" the shop assistant asked.

Hermione handed the shop assistant the jumper, but was torn between the Duffle coat and the brown cardigan. In the end, she chose the coat. She turned in surprise when Severus handed the cardigan to the woman as well, saying, "She'll take this as well." Hermione gratefully put on the coat as they exited the shop.

Further up the street, when gazing at the window of Charles Clinkard Shoes, Hermione saw a pair of black Mary Jane shoes she really liked. They looked comfortable yet dressy, with a low heel and silver buckle, and she wished that she had her Muggle money. Her own pair was getting quite worn, and she could use a new pair since she hadn't had time to do any shopping before her incident with that bloody cursed parchment. It was one of the things that had been on her to-do list before she went into hiding with Harry and Ron – right after Harry's insistence to pick up 'supplies' at Fred and George's shop and buy books – shop for warm clothes and new shoes.

"Do you want them?" Severus asked and smirked at her when she looked up.

She did want to at least try them on. "I... could use a new pair, if it's all right?" she asked tentatively, remembering what Severus had said about providing for her since she was his wife. Would he really?

"Might as well," he added and indicated the door as if it was an inconvenience, but he opened the door for her and followed her inside.

Hermione looked around the shop. They had nice shoes, and she saw a more practical pair of black leather loafers for school and a pair of boots she really liked, but she still preferred the Mary Janes in the window. She asked the shop assistant about them, and he brought her her size. Severus had the assistant bring the soft black loafers as well as the boots, and then paid for all three pairs without comment as she looked at the others on sale.

Hermione looked at Severus shyly as they left the shoe shop, her feet crunching on the frosty cobbles of the precinct, her shopping bags even heavier in her hands.

He looked down at her and quirked an eyebrow. "Hungry?" he asked.

She blushed and nodded, juggling her purchases a little in her arms. Severus reached over and snagged a few bags out of her hands to relieve her burden, shrinking them to fit in his pocket.

They turned down Lake Street and bought lunch at The Lake Street Inn, a little wedge-shaped pub around the corner.

They chatted amiably about books and compared Muggle authors to magical ones, getting into a lighthearted debate on their writing styles and cultural significance while they ate. Severus drank a dark beer with his meal, and Hermione accepted a glass of wine with hers, happy that he was being so considerate and charming.

After lunch, they left the pub and continued to explore the town. Hermione had thought about buying her friends some novelty things she saw in the gift shops, but changed her mind. While Severus was choosing the particular blend of whiskey for Cillian in a little off license, she enjoyed the art pieces in the window of Treeby and Boulton next door.

They walked to Keswick Bookshop on Station Street and enjoyed another leisurely perusal of the Muggle books. Hermione strolled through the shelves, perusing through the books in pure bliss. Naturally, she had no trouble finding literary treasures and intriguing novels, but considering how much Severus had spent on her so far, she was hesitant to hope for more. He found her sitting crossed-legged on the floor, happily reading Chesapeake by James Michener.

"What did you find?" he asked softly.

She held up the book so he could read the title.

"And the others?" he asked pointing to the short stack beside her.

She shrugged, hoping not to seem too expectant, but wanting the books anyway. "A few that interested me," she replied, looking up at him with a smile.

He set down the four he'd found and picked up her first two. She was amused that Severus would be so interested in Muggle literature. He read the titles, and the descriptions on the covers, then set them beside her foot, and picked up the next two. "I'll buy four," he said, handing them back to her.

She put down the one she'd been reading and sorted through her stack, deciding on which she truly wanted while he stood over here, arms crossed, and waited. There were three she definitely wanted, The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame, Parade's End: The Complete Tetralogy by Ford Madox Ford and Chesapeake; she'd read Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities before, an old favorite that she set aside, and contemplated which of the other two she could do without. With a sigh, she set Here Be Dragons by Sharon Kay Penman aside and picked up Silent Honor by Danielle Steel, which she had decided to keep.

He nodded, taking her selections without comment, and went to the sales counter to pay for them.

Back out on the street, she sighed when Severus pulled her in between two shops and told her it was time to go back.

~H~

It was too quiet in the large house the next day. Dianne was still upset with Hermione due to the row Hermione and Cillian had yesterday and, well, every day since Boxing Day.

Cillian was keeping his distance; he'd missed breakfast, nor had he been around at lunch, and she had no idea where he'd gone. Mr. and Mrs. Henley spent the morning alone up in their rooms, and Severus had been summoned by the Dark Lord and missed lunch as well, which left Hermione all by herself.

She considered practicing shifting into her Animagus form, but since she'd only had one lesson with Professor McGonagall before the holiday, she didn't feel confident in her ability of changing back. Of course, she understood the theory, and she'd been able to effect the change in front of her professor, but it had taken her an embarrassing four tries to get it right that day; she'd only managed an incomplete transformation back her sixth attempt, which was not good odds in her book.

She picked up the novel, Chesapeake, which Severus had bought her in Keswick, and walked downstairs, through the formal Drawing Room and into the Long Salon on the west side of the house. Hermione sank down on one of the padded wicker chairs and stared out of the windows. Even though one side of the long room was mostly glass and there were two paned windows on either end, the room was surprisingly warm. The view from the windows showed literally half of the estate, according to Severus, but all she could see were thick trees and an expanse of snow-covered grass, but if she stood at the north-facing window, she thought she could see a Druid circle through the trees just beyond the magical boundary that surrounded the house. The stairs that Dianne said led up to the Long Gallery above her were warded so Hermione couldn't pass, although she had no idea why, unless the view from the gallery would enable her to know where Cillian's house was located.

Hermione was half way through the ninth chapter when she felt a presence in the room. She lowered her book as she turned, surprised to see Cillian leaning against the doorway watching her. She watched him, wondering what he wanted, waiting for him to speak first.

"Do you know what your friends are doing," he said, his voice carrying a hard edge.

She shrugged. "Depends which friends you're referring to."

"At the school," he said sharply.

She nodded. "I have a good idea what they've been doing, yes."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "And presently?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I know where they intended to be over the holiday. Ginny invited Tinko to stay with her; Jenny and Janilynn were going to Ireland, and I think Luna and her father were traveling to Austria to visit family over there."

"And do you know where Potter is?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"Not at the present, no," she replied.

His chin jutted upward as he inhaled, then he looked squarely at her. "But you've heard the prophecy."

Hermione turned her head and settled back into her chair. "I may have."

She heard the thuds of his boots as he walked over to her. "Answer me."

"Now why would I confess that to a Death Eater?" she replied casually.

His glowering stare bore into her as if he was ready to use Legilimency on her. "Tell me or I'll tear it from you," he snarled.

"The Identifier, the Dark Lord, has been identified, and the one who meets the qualifications as the other Identifier specified in the prophecy has been named – Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One – take your pick. The Qualifiers and the Conditions have been met," she said as calmly as she could under his trenchant stare, "and all that is left is to wait for the outcome – for Harry to defeat the Dark Lord."

A deep chuckle escaped his throat and he gave her a nasty smile, "You are so overly confident that the Dark Lord will be defeated so easily by a half-blood whelp who is currently hiding from him?"

Hermione turned in the chair, bending her leg so she could face him fully. "Yes, Harry is an orphan, a half-blood, and he's in hiding as you call it. But that doesn't mean he won't have the power to defeat the Dark Lord. Being a pure-blood means nothing; it doesn't make you stronger or superior to half-bloods or Muggle-borns. But remember, the Dark Lord is a half-blood orphan as well."

Cillian crossed his arms, his feet planted firmly as he looked down at her. "A half-blood orphan – don't be ridiculous."

"Yes, he is. I know the truth about his background. The Dark Lord was born Tom Marvolo Riddle in Wool's Orphanage, I believe. His mum, Merope Gaunt, fell in love with a Muggle, Tom Riddle, in the town of Little Hangleton where they lived. From what Harry said that Dumbledore told him, Tom's grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt, claimed to be a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and both Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt, Tom's uncle, were parselmouths. Tom worked for Borgin & Burkes after he left Hogwarts, and I know Tom applied to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts sometime in the fifties, but he was turned down. Tom then cursed the teaching position, or at least that's what Dumbledore believed, although since that day, no teacher has lasted in the position longer than one year, many becoming hurt, maimed or killed at the end of the school year. Tom then disappeared from society and then reemerged as the self-proclaimed Dark Lord V O L D..."

"Stop!" Cillian shouted. "Don't even spell his name. You should know better – he'll hear you."

"I'm sorry, I thought spelling... I won't do it again. Anyway, what I said, about Tom Riddle, I'm sure all of this can be verified if you were inclined to do so. His name – his real name is anagram of 'I am Lord..." she held up her two fingers in the shape of a 'V', "the V-name. If I had my wand, I could show you."

"How do you know all of this?" he asked, his tone softer, less angry.

"From Dumbledore of course," she said offhandedly. "Did you know that Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore were best friends as young men? When both of them were sixteen, they planned to establish a new world order, wherein wizards would rule over Muggles 'for the greater good' as they called it – but Gellert took their plans one step further to include eliminating anyone who opposed him – thousands of people, Muggle and magical, were killed – anyone who opposed him. That's why Dumbledore fought him, to put an end to the slaughter of the innocent. And now the Dark Lord has picked up Grindelwald's obsession and is blaming the Muggle-borns for the fall of the wizarding world."

He sat down on the chair to her right, facing her. "And you think Potter can defeat him?"

Hermione nodded. "It's what the prophecy said, the part that Severus overheard, 'the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord' would be born on the thirty-first of July, 'as the seventh month dies.' Just ask him – Severus, I mean," she said, wondering if she'd finally convinced him. "And if everything to date, the outcome of every altercation between the Dark Lord and Harry to date doesn't convince you it's possible that Harry can defeat him, then what will?"

He hung his head, his hands clasped together.

Hermione waited, letting him think about what she'd said.

Suddenly he hissed, his left hand clenching into a fist, just as the Mark on her own arm burned, making her cry out in pain. She looked down at her arm, biting her lip, wanting to press her hand over her forearm, tears forming in her eyes. "Is that the Dark Lord summoning me?" she asked, her voice shaky. "Is this what it feels like?"

"It's not a Summons; the awareness is sharper and you'd feel where he wants you to be if it were," he said as he stood up. "This is nothing – he's angry, that's all. I'll get you something for the pain." He took a few steps and stopped, turning to look at her. "Once a Death Eater – always a Death Eater, Hermione."

"Our character is defined by the choices we make, Cillian, and it's never too late to make amends," she said in response, flexing her fingers and trying to ignore the pain – like hot needle pricks – from her Mark. "In the end, what side do you want to be on? Choose Harry, and if we win – I'll stand up for you, as will my friends. If the Dark Lord wins, be cunning and tell him you were only trying to thwart the foolish miscreants from inside the castle."

"You'd have me be a renegade? A turncoat?"

She smiled sweetly at him, despite the burning in her arm. "You wouldn't be the only one," she replied.

He frowned. "I'll get your salve," he said and walked away.

~~o0o~~

Author's Notes:

No, I don't think Hermione would normally read Danielle Steel's books, but considering her circumstances in this story, I think Silent Honor is a book she'd be intrigued by. Silent Honor is a fiction novel by Danielle Steel that made the best seller lists in 1996. The plot follows Hiroko, an eighteen year old who leaves Japan to live with her uncle, aunt, and cousins in California, United States, after making a difficult decision based on her needs and her mother's beliefs. However, when Pearl Harbor is bombed, she becomes an enemy in the American community. Ordered to stay in America by her father, she remains occupied in California; however, the military are ordered to remove all Japanese citizens, and she ends up being put in a detention center, having to fight to stay alive.

The book was published by Delacorte Press in 1996, which is perfect for the timing of this story.