Chapter Twenty-Seven

A/N: Everything you recognize belongs to JKR. I make no money. Thank you to Shellsnapeluver, my wonderful beta.

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Hermione still felt shaky, but she was strengthened by the sound of friendly voices, known voices. The unbearable sense of isolation she had felt since Moody's death lifted for a moment. There were others like them--others running, hiding in the woods, others resisting. At the sound of Dean Thomas's voice, she had to restrain herself from lunging through the tent flap and launching herself at them.

Occasionally, Harry or Ron would whisper something. "Tonks's dad!" or "Dirk Cresswell--works at the Ministry. Dad knows him." But mostly, they listened in stunned silence as the tale of Neville, Ginny and the sword of Gryffindor unfolded.

They would have listened all night, but it began to rain, and the travelers moved on, apparently seeking shelter in a denser part of the forest. Their Extendable Ears had barely been reeled in when Harry demanded to speak to Phineas Nigellus.

"Phineas Nigellus?" Hermione asked, stalling for time. How would she speak to Headmaster Black without involving Snape?

"Yes, Hermione, Phineas Nigellus! He hangs in the Headmaster's office! He'll know what happened to Ginny!"

"Harry, you saw her this morning on the map. You know she's all right."

Harry gave her a look that bordered on loathing, and Ron swung around on his heel to face her. "She's my sister," he spat, and Hermione quailed.

"I--I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she protested. "I just thought that--"

"Get the portrait, Hermione."

Her bag was still on the chair where she had left it. She reached in and pulled the portrait of Headmaster Black from its depths.

"If he comes here," she said, "he'll know where we are; he'll be able to tell Snape!"

Harry hesitated for only a moment. "We'll blindfold him."

"What?"

"Cover his eyes with your hand, Hermione; I don't care. But I want to see him."

Hermione raised her wand, reluctantly. "Maybe if you call him, Harry? He's a Slytherin, after all, and I'm just a Mudblood. But you're famous; he'll know you. And you've met him before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, okay," Harry said. "Erm... Phineas Nigellus?"

"Headmaster Black," Hermione hissed. "And say 'please'!"

"Headmaster Black," Harry said. "It's Harry Potter. I was wondering if you could please come here? There are some things I'd like to ask you about."

***

Snape was sitting in his office, reading, a healthy fire roaring in the grate. Dumbledore was pretending to sleep, and Snape was enjoying the solitude. He turned a page absently. He was not really taking in the words so much as listening to the rain lashing the castle and the crackle and hiss of the fire. When Phineas Nigellus broke the silence, he nearly jumped.

"Headmaster, Harry Potter is calling me."

"Harry Potter?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Indeed. Shall I go to him?"

Snape hesitated. He had no doubt but that Potter still believed him guilty of murdering Dumbledore in cold blood. But was it possible that he had somehow discovered--Merlin knew, he hoped that Hermione had not revealed--their marriage? Was Hermione with Potter? Would this be a conversation that could be held in front of Dumbledore? He glanced at the former Headmaster's portrait. Dumbledore was sitting straight up now, hands on his knees, looking alert and perhaps a bit... excited?

"Please do," Snape said. "But bear in mind that you are under the Headmaster's Oath."

Black huffed. "I do not need reminding of my word, Professor Snape. Would you like an open connection or simply a report?"

Snape paused again, considering.

"A report, if you would, please," Dumbledore said. Snape turned and glared at him, but gave a curt nod when Black looked to him for confirmation.

"Very well," Phineas Nigellus said.

When Black had disappeared from his portrait, Snape rounded on Dumbledore. "After everything, you are still reluctant to tell me your secrets?"

"Hermione is aware of the need to be discreet in sharing information," Dumbledore said calmly. "However, Harry is, at the best of times, hotheaded. It's for your own safety, Severus. After all, the more you know, the more you have to hide."

"My own safety," he sneered and gave Dumbledore a look that was meant to remind him of the many times that he had returned to the castle barely alive, of the hours he had spent recuperating from beatings so severe that the sight of his own bare skin now disgusted him.

"I do not wish to argue, Severus. There are worse things than physical pain, as we both know, and I dare say there are secrets in your mind you would die to keep from Lord Voldemort. So let us not add anything else to them tonight."

Snape glowered, but said nothing.

Black returned remarkably quickly.

"How is Harry?" Dumbledore asked before Snape could open his mouth.

"The Potter brat is as disrespectful as he has always been," Phineas Nigellus said. "I have never understood your insistence that there is something special about the child, Albus. He was mostly concerned about the fate of the Weasley girl after she tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor. It was all terribly childish."

"The sword of Gryffindor?" Snape said sharply. "How did he--?"

"Yes, I rather thought you would be interested in that. It seems your little mu--that is, Miss Granger, is on to you. She asked several pointed questions about its location."

Dumbledore glared at Snape. "What have you told her?"

"You have been here each and every time I have spoken to Miss Granger," Snape said dangerously. "You know full well that I have not even mentioned the sword of Gryffindor. Perhaps if you explained what their interest in it might be, I could be of some service."

"I left the sword of Gryffindor to Harry in my will," Dumbledore said. "He will need it, as you know. And I have already told you that your job is to keep it for him until the time is right."

Snape made a sound like a cross between a chuckle and a sigh. "You cannot bequeath the sword of Gryffindor, Albus. Surely, you knew that. It is not yours to give."

"Quite right. However, I wished to suggest to Harry that he might need it."

"And you felt I was not up to such a task?"

"Severus, I want him to come to these discoveries at a pace that --"

"Shall I go?" Phineas Nigellus interrupted. "Neither of you seem to be very interested in my report."

Snape longed to snap at the portrait, but he refrained. The last time he had done so, the results had very nearly been disastrous. "Forgive me, Headmaster Black. Do go on."

"The Granger girl asked whether the sword had been removed from Hogwarts to be cleaned. Though I corrected her foolish Muggle-born nonsense about cleaning goblins' silver, I did get the impression that she knew a sword had left the office."

Dumbledore's painted face paled.

"I see," Snape said, pressing further, wanting to know what had Albus in such distress. "Did she say anything else?"

"She asked when I had last seen the sword of Gryffindor taken out of its case."

"And what did you tell her?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"I told her that the last thing I could tell her about the sword of Gryffindor was that I had seen you use it to break a ring." Black smiled.

"You are bound to keep the secrets of this office, Phineas," Dumbledore roared.

"And so I did," Black said stiffly. "I told her nothing about what Headmaster Snape had done with the sword. You are no longer the Headmaster; I was not obligated to keep your secret."

Snape shut his eyes briefly, unsure as to whether he was delighted or stricken by this latest development. His mind whirred over the possibilities, holding them up next to each other like puzzle pieces. Dumbledore had used the sword--ah, yes, the ring, the curse--that night! A cursed ring, powerful enough to kill Dumbledore, stabbed by the sword, just as Potter had done to the diary some years back... Why? Was it some enchantment that could only be broken by something of Gryffindor's?

He changed tacks. Something Hermione had gone to the Ministry to retrieve... Something Voldemort didn't know he was missing... The sword of Gryffindor. He thought back further. Something the Dark Lord was hiding? He remembered the night that he had returned from Voldemort and found Hermione asleep in his chambers... Voldemort had asked Bellatrix to keep something safe for him in her vault at Gringotts. He had not thought much of it at the time, though he had mentioned it to Dumbledore. Was the Dark Lord hiding weapons? Treasures? How did the sword of Gryffindor fit in?

"I can see you thinking," Dumbledore said. "Stop now, before it is too late."

Too late. Secrets. Hiding. Suddenly, his mind landed on the part of his plan he had to keep from Hermione, the part he never cared to think about. The part that kept him, he knew, from giving himself to her entirely, for when she realized what he had been keeping from her--

Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsing building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldmort cannot die.

That night, through his horror, he had thought, A Horcrux. Dumbledore does not realize it, but he is talking about a Horcrux. But it seemed he had underestimated Dumbledore's knowledge of the Darkest arts.

Hermione, God help her, was hunting Horcruxes.

He looked up at Dumbledore, his face perfectly blank. He thought he would keep this revelation to himself the for the time being. "Very well. But if you needed me to deliver the sword of Gryffindor, why have you not asked me to do so?"

"Because the time is not yet right! I sent Miss Granger along to slow Harry down--he needs time to learn about his quest before he does something rash!"

Dumbledore's words struck something in him, something he had never dared to look at face on. If he knew the whole plan, he would no longer be bound by Dumbledore's orders, for he would no longer be afraid that he would be destroying an intricate and unknown maneuver. He could weigh his orders against his own mind. He could choose.

The world had changed. Snape stood in the same place he had been a moment before: the very place he had been when Dumbledore had told him what Harry must do; the place he had stood when he had been all but ordered to marry Hermione; the place, in fact, where he had done it. But everything had changed. For once, in his entire, pitiable existence, he knew the whole plan and could see it from each angle. He knew exactly who he belonged to and why. He was almost dizzy with thoughts; they stabbed at him from all directions, but he could see now, see it all, and he felt like someone who had been set free. He could choose. He looked at Albus's portrait almost kindly.

"For all your wisdom, Dumbledore, there is one thing you have never understood. Humans are not chess pieces, no matter how well you think you understand them. They will never do exactly what you think they should."

***

Hermione's heart was dancing a furious jig in her chest. The sword of Gryffindor! If she knew Phineas Nigellus, he had been utterly literal with them. The sword of Gryffindor had not left the Headmaster's office since Dumbledore had used it! That meant that Snape still had it--mostly likely he had sent the fake out on purpose to satisfy Voldemort! And if Snape still had it, then she could get it, and they would be on their way. All she had to do was stall Harry, who was staring at her rapturously.

"The ring was a Horcrux, Hermione! He used the sword of Gryffindor to destroy it!"

"I know! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that which strengthens them! Harry, that sword's impregnated with basilisk venom!"

"But where is it? Dumbledore must have known the Ministry would never let me have it... so he had a copy of it made... and he left the real one--where?"

"Somewhere in Hogsmeade?" suggested Hermione. If she could get them close enough to Hogwarts, perhaps Snape could deliver it to her.

"Ron, what do you think?" Harry asked, turning to Ron. Hermione did not glance at Ron in that moment. She was still gazing at Harry, so happy to see the spark return to his eyes; he practically shone with energy.

"Oh, remembered me, have you?" Ron said. Hermione looked over sharply. His face--there was something wrong with his face.

"What? What's the problem?" asked Harry.

"Well, you've obviously got a problem," said Harry. "Spit it out, will you?"

Ron charged to his feet, looking murderous.

"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

"I see," Harry said. "Were you imagining a life of high adventure? Did you fancy yourself some kind of spy? Did you think we'd be ducking in and out of the Ministry daily, Death Eaters on our tail, blazing through the woods on broomsticks, dueling Dark wizards?"

Ron spluttered.

"So sorry to disappoint," Harry said icily.

"I thought you cared about my sister," Ron said suddenly.

"Ginny? What the fuck does this have to do with Ginny?"

"Just seems like you're not terribly fussed about what happens to my family. Ginny's taking on Snape because of you--"

"He only sent her to work with Hagrid!"

"Yeah, I get it, you don't care!"

Harry looked at Ron with a kind of hatred she had never seen in his face before, not even when he talked about Snape. "Leave Ginny out of this."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Hermione clutched her wand. She would hex them before she let them duel.

"Yeah? I should just forget about her? Like you have? Maybe I should just forget the rest of my family, too. It's all right for you two, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way--"

"Then GO!" roared Harry. "Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit, and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and--"

Ron touched his wand where it stuck out of his pocket, and Harry made to retrieve his as well. Hermione raised her own wand in warning.

"Yeah, I think I will."

Harry turned away from Ron. "Leave the Horcrux," he said over his shoulder.

Ron threw it to the ground. "You coming?" he asked Hermione.

She looked at him for a long time. Where was Ron? Was he coming back or had the Horcrux taken him for good? "No, Ron. I'm staying with Harry. We have a job to do--we promised."

"Yeah, well, have fun with that," Ron said, and he had exited the enchantments before she could even cross the room. She ran after him, but hesitated at the border. If she crossed out, too, would Harry come and let her back in?

"Harry, please--hold out your hand so I can look for him!"

"Leave it, Hermione. He's gone."

Who were these people she was living with? Why were they so willing to let each other go? This tent, the three of them--these things were all she had, and now they had been reduced by one. She felt too stunned to cry, to stunned to do anything. Voldemort was winning. He was miles away, God alone knew where, but he was winning anyway. He was tearing them apart.

Harry picked up the Horcrux where it lay on the floor of the tent. "I'll take the watch," he said and stormed out of the tent flap.

***

Snape had been sitting at his desk for nearly an hour pondering his situation, flipping idly through a sheaf of detention requests. If Hermione was after Horcruxes--well, they need to confer at the very least. How many were there? Were there any he could get for her, any places he could go that she could not? Had she already guessed about Potter? Could he hold on until Dumbledore ordered him to deliver the sword of Gryffindor, or should he flout the old man entirely? To have options was nearly dizzying, and he longed to make lists and sort things out logically, though he knew that to do so, to leave any trace of his thoughts, could send the whole plan up in flames.

"Miss Granger is crying into my frame," Phineas Nigellus said inscrutably from the wall. Snape glanced quickly at Black; then, his eyes flitted to Dumbledore's portrait. The man was absent. Absent!

"Is she alone?"

"I have heard nothing but her blubbering for the last twenty minutes."

Quickly, Snape considered. He might have only seconds--did he dare to use the ring to check first?

"But she has said your name several times." By Black's tone and lifted eyebrow, Snape knew exactly which of his names she had used. So, she was alone.

"If you would be so kind as to open the connection, Headmaster Black, I would be in your debt. I'm terribly sorry to trouble you again so soon."

"Not at all, Headmaster Snape," Black said in an oily voice.

"Bearing in mind, of course, that nothing that is said by myself or Miss Granger should be reported to Dumbledore or anyone else."

"Naturally," Black said, but Snape thought he caught a hint of disappointment in the man's eyes. His leg disappeared from the frame.

He heard her hitching breath. "...if I could just talk to you... I know that's silly, but I need--"

Snape's heart clenched. "Hermione?"

"Professor? I'm sorry--Oh, God, I didn't mean to summon you."

"No--Hermione. Pay attention. We may not have much time. Albus is gone from his portrait."

She went instantly silent.

"I have become aware of your plan."

"Does Vol--"

"NO!" Snape bellowed. "Do not say his name. There is a Taboo on the word. He will find you if you say it. Do whatever you can to impress on Potter that you must not use it."

She did not skip a beat. "Does He-Who---"

"No. I discovered it on my own. Dumbledore is not yet aware that I know."

"But you have the sword."

"I do. I think that he will send me with it before long. Provided it does not take too long, I think we should wait to confer until then."

"All right. But, Sever--sir--"

"Hermione. I--I apologize for being so harsh with you about the Ministry. You have done very well. The task you have been set--"

"Ron left us today," she blurted.

Snape shoved his plans to rip the Weasley child limb from limb to the back of his mind. There was no time. Albus could return at any moment.

"I see. Are you all right?"

"I--"

Snape's eyes danced between the portraits of Dumbledore and Black. Was that--?

"Hermione," he said. "I must go. Be strong. I will come." He gestured sharply at Phineas Nigellus who pulled his leg back into the frame.

"Thank you," Snape whispered.