Part One, Day Two

Part One, Day Two

Disclaimer: I make no money with this story.

Many, many thanks to my beta, Dacian Goddess.

The food was good, but Severus had little appetite. He forced himself to eat a piece of toast and to take a couple of swallows of tea; he did not want Granger to start nagging him about his welfare, however right she might be.

"The press conference will start in two hours in the Great Hall. So far, all the wizarding Media outlets have answered our invitation favourably." Like the previous day, Hermione had brought her own meal with his, but did not show more appetite than him. She was a bit nervous about the conference. She was not accustomed to speaking in public, but she had prepared all her arguments carefully, even though she had not had much time in which to do so.

Severus found her uncharacteristically silent. Her face bore the "I'm-revising-for-exams" look he had observed on her in the past. "Miss Granger, are you unwell?"

She started a little. "Sorry, sir. I'm reviewing what I'm going to say for the press conference."

He snorted. "This isn't an exam. You won't be marked on your performance." His gently mocking tone was the only indication that he was teasing her. His face and his black eyes remained impassive as ever...apart perhaps from that slight twitching at the corner of his thin lips.

"I know. In fact, it's more important than an exam. You do realise that what we're going to say to the press will influence the way the wizard in the street will remember this past year? You do realise that the way you're perceived in wizarding society will be influenced by what we're going to say? You do, don't you?"

Would the girl be as impassioned as that in front of the press? That did not bode well, in Severus's opinion. "Miss Granger, please refrain from such emotional behaviour. It will do more harm than good. You'll be more believable if you are logical and matter-of-fact. People will question your motives otherwise. You have no real reason to show that much heat in my defence."

Hermione considered his argument. "I can see why you'd think that. I'll try not to show too much enthusiasm. You're not a house-elf after all," she answered with a hint of mischief.

"Indeed, I am not," Severus said through gritted teeth. I need her, I need her. "And I do not appreciate your cheek."

"I didn't want to offend you, sir. I'm sorry," Hermione conceded. "I need to go now. I want to arrive in the Great Hall in advance." She stood up, piled up the two trays of food and put them on the bedside table to be retrieved by the house-elves later. Only then, as she was into the sunny light pouring through the windowpanes, did he notice her more womanly figure. Camping had not been good for her intellect only, it seemed. Her voice brought him out of his brief reverie. "Don't forget to take your Blood-Replenishing Potion. I'll see you at lunchtime." She left his curtained partition swiftly, and he was left to ponder how mature she had become.

Near to two hundred journalists were waiting when Hermione came into in the Great Hall. She heard a babble of different languages and was dazzled by the various attires and colours worn by the reporters from all over the world. Harry and Ron, among other Hogwarts students, were already on the dais where the staff table usually stood. The plates and glasses usually in place on the massive table had now been replaced with microphones. Professor McGonagall was conversing with a dignified Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been newly appointed as Minister of Magic. Professor Slughorn waved and smiled broadly at several journalists, showing off the breadth of his connections in the wizarding world for everyone to know. "Oh, look who's there?" he exclaimed in Professor Sprout's ear. "That's Mamadou N'Diaye. Do you know that he owns eighty percent of the wizarding press in Western Africa? He studied in Beauxbâtons, but I met him for an interview years ago. We've kept in touch since then."

Hermione joined her friends. Harry looked resolved. Ron sidled up to her and tried to hold her hand publicly, but she took no notice and he withdrew his hand, a bit miffed. Neville smiled nervously, but there was an underlying confidence in his demeanour. Luna was as dreamy as ever. Ginny was trying to get as close as possible to Harry without seeming to invade his personal space. There were other students on the dais and at the foot of it, and Hermione was glad of it: they were all heroes, after all. Her gaze swept over the crowd in the Hall. The journalists all had badges pinned on their clothes. She recognised the logo of the Daily Prophet, Xenophilius Lovegood from The Quibbler and... George Weasley, along with Lee Jordan. They both were proudly wearing badges with Fred's photo and the word "Fredwatch". Their faces were grave and solemn, and their eyes looked red and somewhat puffy. Actually, the whole Weasley clan, minus Ron and Ginny, stood in the Great Hall near a platform erected along the outside wall of the Hall. There lay the bodies of the fallen of the battle at Hogwarts. Looking at the ashen yet peaceful faces of Tonks, Lupin and Fred, Hermione could not help the tears that ran down her cheeks. She would miss them dearly. Ron snaked an arm around her shoulders and dragged her to him, burying his nose in her untameable hair in the process, and Hermione heard him sniff. She returned his embrace, not knowing that the picture would make the front page of most of the wizarding newspapers in the world.

The press conference lasted two hours and could have gone on if Kingsley had not decided it was time to stop. Besides, it was lunchtime.

Deeply relieved, Hermione stopped to talk a bit with the Weasleys before she joined Snape in the Hospital Wing.

Severus tackled her head-on. "How was the press conference? I hope your head has kept its usual size after all that attention paid to you." A sneer graced his face and bared his yellowish teeth.

"Do you regret that you couldn't attend it?" Hermione answered testily, putting down on his lap his lunch tray a bit harshly.

He waved his hand dismissively. "I don't care for fame...."

"Whether you care or not, Harry made quite the impression when he declared that you were 'one of the bravest men he'd ever met'."

Severus sighed dramatically. "Potter sang my praise in public? His father must have been turning in his grave!"

Hermione was tempted to ask about Harry's mother, but she chose to refrain. It would not be right to use his love for Lily Evans against him while he was incapacitated, especially since it was said love that had turned him away from Voldemort.

"You should be glad. You're going to be swarmed by women who will think you to be the last romantic man on earth."

It seems the girl knew her sarcasm well, which was for the better. Not only had she switched from "Textbook" to English but, what was more, her conversation was not dull.

"You don't look rested," she said abruptly.

"It must be because I'm not," he snapped.

"I'm sure your health would improve if you ate," she said, pointing at the untouched tray.

"I'm not that hungry."

"Perhaps you don't want to quit Madam Pomfrey's good care?"

He grabbed his fork and started to eat, though without enthusiasm. As had become her habit, she ate with him.

After their meal, Hermione stayed with him to discuss snake venoms. There was a "muscle incident", as they were beginning to think of them, when Severus's head fell forward suddenly and without prior warning. He could not raise his head, and so he had to lie down to swallow the Muscle-Controlling Potion. He resumed his sitting position as soon as he regained control of the muscles in his neck again. He batted Hermione's hands away when she tried to slide an army of pillows behind his back.

"Is there really no cure for your illness, sir?"

"As far as I know," Severus replied warily, "no, there isn't. The Dark Lord's snake was unique, modified with potions to suit his needs. And as you should know, venom is not just a poison you can deconstruct and brew an antidote against. You need the original toxic substance to make antivenin. I managed to approach Nagini some months ago and steal her venom, but not enough to make more than one-batch of antivenin potion; not enough to inject some into me and have my body make its own antibodies. I wasn't treated fast enough after I was bitten,"...he glared at her..."and the venom had time to do some damage in my body. To find a cure means to have a sample of that snake's venom at hand," he finished bitterly.

Hermione's guilt rushed to the fore once more. "Does this mean you won't be able to remain as Hogwarts' headmaster, no matter what?"

His glare intensified. "Of course I can remain the headmaster! It's just..." I'm diminished, was his unfinished thought, but Hermione seemed to catch on. She was saved from finding something to say when Professor McGonagall entered the Hospital Wing and headed for Severus's bed.

"Severus! It's good to see you're better!" she exclaimed with measured joy, as if she felt awkward being warm to him after having scorned him for a year. "Miss Granger, I've heard from Poppy that you've been taking good care of our headmaster?"

Hermione blushed. "Yes, Professor. I'm doing my best to help him recover."

"Good. The press conference this morning was quite a success. I must commend you for the idea." She smiled at the younger woman, whose blush deepened.

Severus snorted. "I highly doubt, Minerva, that you made the trek until here only to praise your favourite student."

Back on track, the acting headmistress retorted, "Of course not. I wanted to know what your plans were after you're released from the Hospital Wing." She was quick to add, when he opened his mouth to speak, "No, Miss Granger can stay. She might be concerned by the conversation."

Both Severus and Hermione looked bewildered at the older teacher's statement and, for lack of a witty repartee, let her utter her idea. "Miss Granger told me that she envisaged going to Australia to give her parents their memories back and bring them back to England. The governors have decided that they wanted Mimar Sinan, the famous architect, for the castle's reconstruction. The man built the wizarding opera in Sydney, and it's said it surpasses even Hogwarts' magnificence. He hardly leaves Australia because You-Kn... Voldemort wanted him dead for his refusal to become a Death Eater twenty years ago. Sinan probably never believed that Voldemort," she said the name nearly smoothly, "was dead for good either when Harry defeated him all those years ago. The governors are convinced that nothing short of the school's headmaster could convince Sinan to leave Australia."

"And they thought the man would follow me on my good name?" Severus said sarcastically while baring his left forearm, on which the faint line of the Dark Mark stood out.

"Severus," McGonagall answered as if explaining some complex Transfiguration Spell to Neville Longbottom, "that's why having Miss Granger at your side would be an asset. She's Harry Potter's best friend."

"Minerva, he would simply think that I've put her under the Imperius Curse."

"Nonsense, Severus. By tomorrow, everyone all over the world will know of your true loyalties. Miss Granger's presence will only reinforce the idea of your innocence."

Said Miss Granger was witnessing the conversation mutely; she was very curious to know where it would lead.

"The Ministry will never let me leave Britain before I've been tried."

"Just say you don't want to go," McGonagall snapped, "but stop trying to find excuses. Kingsley is the new Minister. He's agreed to give you a pass to Australia. He'll give it to you tomorrow after the funerals."

"Funerals?"

"Yes. The funerals of those who fell here. They'll be held near Dumbledore's tomb."

Severus closed his eyes as if in pain. "I bet Madam Pomfrey won't let me attend it."

"But you have a splendid view of the grounds from the Hospital Wing windows. Your bed could be moved up to there." She pointed at an empty place right under a large windowpane.

Severus was too tired to fight her for long. "All right. You win. I'll attend the funerals from the window, and I will accompany Miss Granger to Australia."

"Thank you, sir," the young woman answered brightly, startling the two others, who had forgotten about her being there.

The five Gryffindors were sprawled in the armchairs of their common room, which was blissfully empty of any other student.

"Dirk Sinan? The governors want Mimar Sinan?" Neville asked incredulously.

"What's with that Mimar Sinan?" Harry inquired.

"He's famous for fleeing England twenty years ago or so. He refused to be a Death Eater like his father."

"He's also the best wizarding architect alive," Hermione added. "I've checked in the library. What he did with Sydney wizarding opera is awesome."

"I don't care about Sinan," Ron interjected. "It's only right that you go and fetch your parents, but I don't like you going with Snape. Maybe I could go with you?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't think so. Professor McGonagall would have mentioned it otherwise. She seemed to think that my presence could bend Sinan's will into coming back. I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that Voldemort killed his daughter and mistress in front of him. I went to the library before I came back here, and I saw his mistress's photo in an old issue of the Daily Prophet. She had hair like mine, though her eyes were blue."

"A reformed Death Eater travelling with a Muggle-born, who is also a friend of mine, and who looks like his past mistress... That makes sense," Harry mused aloud. "It's very much like Dumbledore taking me to convince Slughorn to come back to Hogwarts."

"Said like that, yes, I suppose it makes sense," Ginny agreed. "Can you spend a bit more time with us today, please?" Ginny asked to Hermione, turning to her. "We're leaving tomorrow, and we've hardly seen you lately."

"Of course." She smiled. "But I'll go back to the Hospital Wing tonight to make sure Headmaster Snape eats his dinner." Being with her friends was good, but she would not shirk her duties, however self-appointed they might be.

Ron was not happy with her answer, but for once he kept his tongue in check. "I'll go with you tonight, then, if the only way to be with you is to see him as well."

"Oh, Ron, that's so sweet!" Hermione exclaimed, and she kissed him soundly on the mouth until three light coughs convinced them to part from each other.

What? She had not dared! What was that redheaded prat doing there? Obviously, he was escorting Miss Granger, for he was carrying her tray while she had his in her hands.

"Ron came with me. I hope you don't mind?" Hermione looked at Severus uncertainly.

"Will he stay?" Severus glanced at the phials of green potions on his bedside table.

"No, sir," Ron answered. "I only intended to help Hermione with the trays." He could feel the hostility coming off the headmaster in waves, and the man did not sound like an invalid. He feared that if he did not leave, Snape would take it out on his girlfriend. He pecked Hermione briefly on the lips and slipped out of the curtain-closed partition.

"Did you need to bring that oaf? I count myself lucky that he left; that boy eats like a pig!"

"That's not true! Ron has very good manners!" she exclaimed indignantly.

Severus snorted. "If you say so." He looked down at his plate. "Let's tuck in."

They ate in silence. Severus observed the girl stealthily. She had improved greatly during that last year when she had been away. Her shape and her mind had both benefited from hands-on experience. This consideration had him pondering one of the great mysteries of life: what did women see in men who were not him? The general question slid to: what did Granger see in the Weasley boy? He was brave? Severus too. He was intelligent (when he deemed it fit to actually use his intelligence)? Severus too. He was... handsome? Severus was not sure if he was competent enough to judge how handsome other men were, but he had to admit Weasley had something that he, Severus Snape, did not have: good looks. But Severus had something Weasley did not have: cunning, an uncanny ability at plotting, and experience at life. What could win a woman's heart...and body? Good looks, or craftiness? If he had done things differently with Lily, would he have won her heart? He now had an unexpected opportunity to test these theories out and to seek answers to his questions in the form of an Authority-sanctioned travel alone with a Muggle-born who was not so different from Lily. If it brought him the "more" his life was craving, it would be all the better.