Chapter 22

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 please.

A/N: Thanks go to ladyinthecloak for beta reading this for me, and I want to say thanks to Charmed_Nay, who will also read through it when she has a moment. You ladies are great. Cheers!

Hermione walked slowly through the stacks of the Hogwarts library, eyes closed and hands out, willing her memory to come back to her. Ginny had unknowingly given her the first clue to getting back the pieces of her life. The note about Leonardo da Vinci's book on the back of the portrait had to be the key.

A quote on Necromancy? Alchemy?

Yes, she was definitely on the right track. Pausing and opening her eyes, she gazed at the section on her left, remembering it well from the days she'd searched for information on Horcruxes. Why couldn't she remember searching for Necromancy information?

Snorting, she muttered, "Divination of the dead indeed." The first mental image she conjured upon thinking of Necromancy was one from early on in her childhood before she'd learned that magic was real. Her father had taken her to a festival where, among other forms of entertainment, a large group of psychics and Tarot card readers were grouped together. He'd always thought of her "gift" as something otherworldly and had hoped someone there could help them.

One woman in particular took interest in her and talked about Necromancy, saying she practiced the old ways and could summon the dead and ask for help and advice. In the end, Hermione's father had lost quite a few pounds, and they hadn't been helped with anything. All those years back when she'd met Trelawney for the first time, she'd been instantly reminded of the old fraud from the festival and had taken a dislike to her and the subject immediately.

"I'm quite with you here, Leonardo," she said softly. "Oh, there might be a few who are legitimate, but I wonder if much of it, tea leaves and whatnot, isn't sheer luck."

Hermione walked the next three aisles, turned right, and then made her way to a back section that did seem vaguely familiar. Letting her instincts guide her, she slowly made her way to the last shelf and looked up. Incredibly, the book caught her eye immediately.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," she huffed, standing on her tiptoes to reach up for it. The Many Ponderings of Leonardo da Vinci was quite thick and seemed to be a collection of information from some of his notebooks. "Interesting."

Carefully holding the old, worn book, and with shaking hands, she made her way to a small table in the far corner so that she could read without interruption. In her hands possibly lay the first step on the path back to Severus. Going by instinct again, she let the book fall open to wherever it may.

20 August 1514

And to accuse me of such a thing, the superstitious twits! The church has gone too far this time, but I shall not proclaim anything publicly for the moment. Those fools can look at me with as much disapproval as they deem necessary, for learning about the human body through dissection isn't ungodly or black magic. What, a Necromancer! Next I'll be branded a sorcerer! Think they that I, too, am small witted? I dare not explain that I've been thinking about a way to cheat God and death then, not yet, else I'll be branded a fool much like the Alchemists I mentioned last time. I admit they've aroused my curiosity. Who would have thought that the would-be creators of gold and silver might be on to something?

"What is he on about?" she wondered aloud. It was intriguing that the book happened to open to a page where Necromancy was mentioned, but what sort of clue was this? Nothing seemed familiar, not for what she needed anyway. Of course she remembered that the church had accused him of Necromancy, but nothing had ever come of it. Did this passage mean something to her and the work she and Severus had done together?

"Cheat God and death. Hmmm. Did he use Alchemy after all to make a potion like the one that saved Severus?" she pondered. She flipped through a few surrounding entries and found a great deal of talk about painting and mirrors. "There must be something more."

She lifted her wand, suddenly remembering something she'd used many times in the past. "Reveal." If anything had been written on a paper over the book, the spell would make it show up temporarily on the book's page as if written there. She'd learned that spell long ago so that she might see what other students had been thinking about when reading certain texts. She'd always been fascinated by the amount of people who simply wrote something on top of an open book, not realizing it could be traced with magic by another.

Her eyes widened as words began to form on the page, faintly at first, and then darker than the text itself. Her handwriting jumped out at her immediately. She flicked her wand to rid the page of any traces of another's writing to keep only hers. Whatever she'd been thinking, this had been orchestrated purposely, for it wasn't scribbled notes before her; she'd left clues for herself.

"Necromancer, cheat God and death, sorcerer, Alchemist... they've all got circles around them. I've written the words here on the left. Why? And why does the phrase cheat God and death sound so familiar?" Hermione's brow furrowed as she thought this over. "What's this?" At the bottom of the page, she could clearly see the name Darcilo Von Dinea. "Who the bloody hell is that?"

This caused her to snicker and think of Ron. He'd offered to join her at the library, but she'd refused his company, not wanting him to know what she needed to research. Deep down, she knew that she hadn't wanted to disappoint him. The hopeful expression he'd given her when she'd entered the kitchen had made her feel instantly guilty. She wanted to believe in Severus...desperately. She wanted to forgive him and move past what had happened. By doing all of this, however, she would never have a life with Ron, no matter how much she might have wanted that once. That definitely wasn't what she desired any longer, and if what Severus had confessed was true, then she may have never truly wanted it in the first place.

It was still hard for her to believe that she would have refused him because she worried about what others thought, not if she loved him. Would she risk her happiness just to make Ron and others happy? She thought about Ron then, his hopeful expression, his goofy grin, and his warm eyes. Yes. Yes, she would have, but she couldn't do that again. This time she would decide what was best for her. If it turned out that Severus wouldn't be the man in her life, then she would deal with it, even though she loved him more deeply than she'd ever loved anyone, including Ron.

She sighed softly. "Perhaps there will be something on this Von Dinea bloke here in the library. I can crosscheck all of these. Not like I have anything else to do." Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she stood and took two steps before faltering and leaning against a bookshelf. A vision came to her unbidden, blurred and confusing but a true memory nonetheless.

Severus laughed loudly and happily. "You did it! I can't believe I didn't see it! You brilliant girl, how did you know? What made you add this?" He paused when he noticed she wasn't replying. "Is something amiss?"

"It wasn't me." She held the thin book up and shook it playfully. "Von Dinea gave me the idea."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. The memory, albeit short, was precious to her and proved...somewhat...that Severus had been telling the truth. "That had to have been before we... fell in love," she said.

What she didn't understand, however, was why she would willingly alter her memories. It just didn't seem like something she would do. Had she been so weak that she couldn't bear to remember her feelings for Severus while moving on with Ron? Surely not.

"Or was I?" she wondered. She conjured the memory again and replayed it in her mind. It didn't feel as though she loved him, just that she'd been in awe that he'd given her such praise. It was a little blurry, though, and just not easy to tell what feeling she could have held for Severus at that time. The smile on his face had been beautiful, ridding his expression of its usual scowl...or the constant scowl he'd worn in those days anyway. Never again would she take something so lightly. Would he ever look at her and smile in such a way? Gush excitedly? Laugh so loudly?

For the first time, she fully appreciated what she'd cost her parents when she'd taken their memories from them. In that instance, she'd thought she'd done the right thing, what needed to be done for the greater good. "So it's true then. I would have done this to myself for the greater good." That thought disappointed her. Why couldn't she have found a better solution?

"It's obvious that I wasn't sure about my future with Ron," she said as if talking to the book in her hand. "I wouldn't have told Ginny what I did. I wouldn't have left these clues for myself."

Good grief. I'm talking to a book. She snorted lightly. Pity it can't talk back and give me what I need. Determined, she followed the shelves in search of a nearby card catalogue that might point her in the right direction. As she neared it, however, she felt the same little dizzying feeling she had before when that memory had returned and leaned heavily against the wall, Leonardo's book slipping from her hand as she did so.

"Ginny! Snape, he's in the library. I've got to hide," Hermione whispered urgently.

Hermione nodded and scurried away, adrenaline coursing through her body. She had to get away before Severus found her, before he succeeded in changing her mind. Her decision had been made. There was no future for them, and she had to do what she had to do.

And now she knew what Ginny had been talking about. Retrieving the memory didn't make her feel any better, though she was glad to know it for herself. She'd not wanted to talk to Severus, and it was obvious he was trying to stop her from leaving so that he could change her mind about... about their relationship? About wanting to alter her memories? It obviously had been a hard decision to make. She could still feel the despair mingled with determination that she'd felt that night.

No longer needing help to find the book, she began the small walk that would lead her directly to it: the Restricted Section, tenth shelf down on the right. Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen, so she slipped in without any questions and easily found the small book.

"All this fuss over you," she murmured, grabbing it gently.

The title's glinting letters on the cover caught the light from a nearby flame, and Hermione realized that it was actually gold or at least plated. She read, "Cheat God and Death Be Ye A Sorcerer, an Alchemist, or a Necromancer by Darcilo Von Dinea, edited by Caradoc Dearborn."

Hermione's stomach jolted. "Dearborn!" He was the brother of the woman who'd claimed to have an intimate affair with Severus, the one who'd helped bring Rita Skeeter to justice. What could it mean? How did he tie into things? If Severus knew about this, why did he not say anything when the woman had accused him? He'd told more lies, hadn't he?

Wanting to be alone to read and investigate further, she placed the book in her beaded purse with the other one and flicked her wand to conceal them both from the magical book-theft detectors, something Severus had taught her, something else she suddenly remembered. How convenient, she thought bitterly, yet still welcoming the knowledge.

Just as she left the Restricted Section, a tall woman stepped in front of her. "All right, Mrs. Snape? You look a bit pale." Madam Pince's hawk-like features came into focus. "Mrs. Snape?"

"Sorry." She wanted to point out that she was no longer Mrs. Snape but hadn't the heart, hadn't the want to voice it out loud. "I think I need a nap. I'm not feeling my best."

"When you said you wanted to use the library, you didn't mention anything about needing the Restricted Section."

"Oh... I just... You know, nostalgia and all that."

"Any students in there?"

"Not that I saw, Madam Pince."

"Right then. See yourself out."

"Thanks." Fleeing the library, she left Hogwarts without talking to anyone else, practically running the Apparition point. Once there, she Disapparated without thinking and then nearly fainted upon seeing her location. She'd gone home...to the home she'd shared with Severus.

There was no smoke coming from the chimneys, the house looked dark and vacant, and the feeling of safety lured her closer. Severus wasn't there. Had he not returned then? Unable to help herself, she walked down the hillside to the house. Emotion welled up inside of her; things flicked through her mind: his smile, his sad eyes, his long-fingered hands reaching out for her, and their last kiss.

"It's all gone, isn't it?" she whispered numbly. She longed to feel again the power of the bonding and all that it entailed, wanted to know what he felt at that very moment, wanted to feel closer to him than anything else. She missed him, missed the security he provided, not that she needed it, but it was nice to have. She missed his love, now that she was certain she'd had it.

Hermione entered the house easily, the wards recognizing her still, and she went through the rooms on the bottom floor and saw that it had remained unchanged, right down to the couch he'd transfigured into a bed for them to sleep off the effects of the bond release. Her eyes were drawn to the large set of windows she loved.

"Our garden," she muttered and strode forward to the side door. The books in her purse forgotten, she began watering their plants and flowers. "You lot shouldn't suffer just because we're utter arses, now should you?" Before she realized what she was doing, she'd added soil to several plants, picked some vegetables that were ripe for eating, and even repotted one that seemed to have grown too big for its holder over night.

Happiness. That was what she felt. Simple things that she'd enjoyed doing with Severus made her happy. Why had she not accepted it, her life, as it was? She could still be happy, him at her side, the bond keeping them close. Would it have been so bad?

Frowning, she knew the answer. She never would have been happy not knowing if her feelings were her own or the result of the bonding. And she never would have been told the truth about their past, for how would she have demanded it of him in any other situation? So, no, things couldn't have remained as they were. They would have eventually poisoned her against him anyway, maybe bringing about even more damage. What if children had been involved? They would have been hurt.

With a pang, she realized that she might never have that with him...a real family. What if she wouldn't approve of what she found out? What if her memories revealed things he'd still kept quiet about? Obviously, there was so much more...just seeing Caradoc's name on that book proved that. Yet Severus never uttered a word about it, claiming he had no idea about the man's life other than he'd disappeared and simply remembered him in passing. Had the oath he'd given her kept him from admitting anything more?

What would she have thought if he'd mentioned knowing he'd edited someone's book? Hermione wondered if she'd have taken the initiative to look the man's work up on her own and what would have happened if it had jogged her memory without warning.

"I probably would have thought I'd gone mad," she said with tight smile. Sighing, she stood and fidgeted with soil stuck under her fingernails, knowing she'd put off the inevitable long enough. "Now to see what's going on with this Darcilo Von Dinea man."

Going back to Grimmauld Place was out of the question, as she'd likely not have privacy for very long there...not with her well-meaning friends anyway. Since Severus hadn't been back since their parting, she assumed it would be all right to make herself at home and read in her sitting room by the fire as she'd done so many times before.

Truth was it felt great to be home again.

"Is miss staying home again?" came a squeaky voice from the doorway.

"Oh, Izzy!" Hermione gasped, startled. She had been so caught up in her thinking that she'd not thought to call out and greet the house-elf. "I'm so sorry. I was just... I'm not staying permanently, just for a little while."

Feeling suddenly guilty, she wondered if the elf still saw her as her mistress now that she and Severus were no longer married. Would the elf try to insist she leave?

"I is hoping to have company. Master isn't staying here again. Izzy is alone."

"While I may not live here any longer, I promise that you won't be alone. I'll come to visit you every day that I can."

"Miss is wanting tea?"

"All right. I'll just get a fire going while you do that."

"Izzy is making sandwiches for lunch, too."

"That sounds... Thank you. I'd like that."

She watched the elf strut happily away and smiled. Izzy, though a house-elf, was a good companion. Hermione felt anger with Severus for leaving her alone again. How could he do that? And why hadn't he thought to water the plants? Would he just let the things they'd loved wither and die because he felt better off brooding at his wretched Spinner's End home?

Hermione brandished her wand and flicked it furiously, setting the room to rights again. Had he told Izzy to keep things as they were? Why hadn't the elf tidied? She opted not to ask in fear that the elf would see this as a reproach and try to punish herself. Instead, she thanked her for the tea and sandwiches and told her that she wouldn't mind if she did any cleaning necessary and was sure that her master would approve. The elf seemed grateful and as much as admitted she hated to change anything in case the master came back and became angry.

Finally settled with the book in one hand and a triangle-shaped ham sandwich in the other, Hermione opened the book to read the foreword by the late (or missing, rather) Caradoc Dearborn.

Of late, I've been fascinated by the work of Darcilo Von Dinea and have made it my personal project to go through his many theories and try to decode the riddles and shed light on touchy subjects. For a Muggle, he seemed completely knowledgeable about certain things we wizards hold dear, almost to the point that I would suspect he, too, was a wizard. For all we know, he could have been.

Not much is known about his early life, as he took great pains to conceal his true identity, but he had influential friends from the Wizarding world, the Flamels being only two. Nicolas Flamel obviously partook in mentoring Von Dinea and possibly shared Alchemy secrets...along with secrets of our world...with the man, who indeed made gold from lead successfully through Alchemy. We all know that Flamel is most famous for creating the Elixir of Life, but I intend to prove that he and Von Dinea were actively working on other ways to cheat God and death. These theories are not just the spouting of a Muggle nutter and are possibly starting steps for something great.

"Flamel again!" Hermione had a wave of nostalgia once again as she read the man's name. The first time she'd researched something about him had been back in her first year at Hogwarts when she and the others had needed information on the Philosopher's Stone. "If he mentored Von Dinea, then perhaps they were on to something. They must have been."

She snorted at herself. "Get a grip, Hermione. You know that you found a key to breaching the Otherworld through Von Dinea's book already." The earlier memory she'd had flashed through her mind. It was just hard not knowing everything. At what sort of rate would she regain her memories? Would something strike her as familiar and jog them? Maybe they would all come flooding back in a rush.

The latter would be the best for her, as she hated not knowing and having to learn things piece by piece. Especially things I bloody well know already, she thought bitterly. Popping the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth, she turned the page and saw a drawing that looked very familiar on the book's title page.

"Where have I seen this before?"

An older man, haggard looking, with bushy brows, hair long and wavy and a long beard to match stared out at her. He faced the left slightly, and while his eyes seemed to be scowling, there was a small smirk playing at his lips. The entire picture seemed to be done in red and black chalks, no other colors aside from the many hues of those. His robes were dark and his pale hands crossed in front of his waist, resting on his stomach. In the background, she could make out a rocky terrain and some path through which people traveled. She was certain she'd seen the man before.

"It'll come to me," she said certainly. "Always does."

The original work was first published in 1520. Caradoc published his edited version exactly 450 years later in 1970. What puzzled Hermione the most was how the man had even heard of Von Dinea. She considered herself well read and had never heard of him. What had Caradoc been researching? Had Dumbledore requested his help with something? The man was an Order member, so they were likely close. Dumbledore also knew Nicolas Flamel and practiced Alchemy. Was this why Caradoc had disappeared all those years ago? Had he been killed for his knowledge? He'd gone missing not long after that publication date.

"Shite. Voldemort. He would have wanted to know ways to stay alive. When he published this book, he signed his own death warrant I'd wager." She nodded as she mulled this over. That's why he was never found again. Voldemort snatched him, wanting his help with becoming immortal.

Wishing she could get Severus' opinion and talk things over with him, she turned the page again to start reading through the book. How she missed Severus. She wondered if she should owl him to ask him to join her or if he would. Would he answer her questions about Caradoc? Would he want to be close to her now that she'd left him? His letter had as much as said that he'd rather not because it was too painful for him, but he had admitted to wanting to keep in touch.

"I never sent an owl back to him," she said sadly. "I'll do that when I go back to Grimmauld Place." She wanted him to know that she wouldn't go public with their separation and would do whatever it took to see that Lucius pay for his actions.

That bastard, how could I have ever fallen for his trickery? How could I have stepped foot back in his home after what happened to me there? A dizzying sensation filled her, and she immediately braced herself for another memory.

"Please," she begged. "I don't know anything."

Hermione's eyes darted around the room, and she saw Draco standing behind his mother, eyes wide with horror, clutching the woman's robes as if to get her attention. Is he going to help me? God, I can't let them know anything! The sword is our only...

"The sword! Where did you get it?"

The memory faded, and Hermione's eyes were filled with tears. The memory she had of that night was much the same, but she'd always known there were holes, things missing, but she'd assumed it had been due to the pain she'd been in. She was certain that she'd passed out a few times. She'd been worried about protecting Severus as well as Harry. She would have died to protect him and the work they'd done together...not just for Harry but because she'd loved Severus.

She could feel that through the memory. At that point in her life, she'd been in love with him. Strangely enough, in the memories she'd come to know, she'd thought her heart had belonged to Ron then. And it had. She loved Ron, too, but Severus had had more of her. When? When did I decide to forgo a future with Severus for Ron? What made my decision?

"Oh, God... the night he came back to the camp." It came crashing back to her suddenly.

Ron had left them, had let the Horcrux poison his mind and had said horrible things to her and left. How she'd loathed him, yet missed him. How she wished he were more like Severus. Severus would never have abandoned them.

Hermione sat outside the tent and kept watch while Harry slept inside. She listened carefully, wondering if anyone were nearby. She couldn't believe that Ron had left like that. Tears slid down her cheeks. She'd been thinking that she should give her whole heart to Ron and had already ended things with Severus. It was for the best after all. They wouldn't have a future together, so why should she continue pretending they could? Nobody would approve. What would Harry say? What would the Weasleys say? Her parents?

A shooting star flitted through the sky overhead, and at that moment, she decided to make a vow. "If Ron comes back to help us and apologizes, I will forgive him. I'll see that as a sign to honor the decision I made to be with him. However, if he doesn't come back before I see Severus again, I'll know that it's Severus who's the man for me. I'll tell him that my plan is a mistake, that I shouldn't have ended things."

Ron had come back three days after that, and she'd been so angry that she'd wanted to beat him within an inch of life and probably would have if Harry hadn't been there. The longer he'd stayed away, the more she'd regretted her decision to spend her life with him instead of Severus. By the time he'd come back, she'd been planning out the ways she'd sneak to Hogwarts and let Severus know she'd changed her mind. When he'd walked back in, looking as though he should be welcomed with open arms, she'd nearly hated him, hated that he'd once again confused her.

"It was the sign I'd asked for after the shooting star, so I stuck with my promise." Hermione shut the book in her hands, reached over for her tea and took a sip of it, and then stood to stretch. With these things on her mind, she couldn't concentrate on the book. Any clues would be lost. What she needed was a hot bath and possibly another nap.

"Izzy?"

"Yes, miss?"

"I'm going to go up for a bath and a nap."

"Is miss needing Izzy to help?"

"No, I just wanted you to know, and I'd like you to wake me up if I'm still sleeping before dusk, all right?"

"Izzy will. Is miss wanting Izzy to cook dinner?"

"I... No, I don't think so, Izzy." When the elf looked disappointed, she added, "Maybe tomorrow."

"Izzy is proud to be helping miss."

Hermione smiled at the elf affectionately and made her way upstairs to the suite she shared with Severus, wondering why she didn't feel as if she were trespassing. After all, it wasn't her home any longer, yet it felt more like home than anywhere else had in a long time. When she entered the room, she heard the water running in the bath already and spied Izzy putting out a large towel for her.

"She beat me up here," she said to herself, going to the wardrobe to fetch one of Severus' shirts to nap in after her bath. After finding a shirt, she noticed the trunk that they'd taken with them from Spinner's End. At one time, she'd debated on breaking into it to see what treasures it held, but she'd never had the courage to do so. Those were Severus' personal belongings after all. If he'd have wanted to share its contents, he would have. It was very tempting now, especially knowing all the things he'd lied to her about and had kept from her.

Forcing herself to turn away, she went to have her bath instead. She'd think about the chest later. For now, she wanted to concentrate on finding herself again, on regaining her precious past.

SW's Notes: I'm sorry for the delay in posting. I got caught up in the holidays and judging a contest and so many other things I could go on about. Hahaha. This won't happen again. I'm very excited about the things I have planned for the next few chapters, so I hope you'll stick with me.