Part One, Day Three

Thanks to my wonderful beta, Dacian Goddess.

The Daily Prophet was delivered early the next day. As expected, the press conference of the day before had made the front page, including Ron and Hermione's embrace, but Ron was the sole recipient of all the teasing because Hermione escaped to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible. It was not as if Ron was really bothered, after all. He liked to have his share of fame, and Hermione was his girlfriend; there was no harm in letting people know.

Severus was reading the Daily Prophet when Hermione arrived with the trays. He had had a horrible night. Sleep had eluded him once more, and his cardiac sphincter had loosened in the middle of the night. Being choked by his stomach contents was a sensation he did not care to feel again. And this utter tripe had landed on his lap this morning! People were bound to feel joy, relief, hope after the Dark Lord's fall, but was that a reason to go sentimental? "Young love", "purity of heart", "wondrous bravery" and such inanities were but a sample of the rubbish printed in this morning edition. He himself was depicted as the Dark Hero, whose love was undying, faithful to the end, not fearing to sully his hands for the love of a Gryffindor, Muggle-born woman. He hoped he would not be stalked by women in need of a hero to save. Well, seducing Granger was a necessity; it would have the double advantage of making him appear as the Dark Hero who fell once again for the Gryffindor, Muggle-born woman who could save him, and of putting a damper on silly women's attempts to rescue his soul.

"Good morning, sir," Hermione greeted him as she entered his partition with two trays in her hands and thankfully no Weasley in tow.

"Good morning, Miss Granger." Time to be civil; no flies were caught with vinegar.

They started on their meal without waiting, as had become their custom after a couple of days. After a while, Hermione could not help but ask, "Did you sleep well, sir? You look... pale."

"I always look pale."

"Well, paler than usual, if I may say so." She bit her lower lip.

"And what would you know about my complexion?"

"Er... I don't remember you being that pale yesterday."

I will not snap at her. He sighed. "If you must know, difficulty to sleep is another side-effect to some snake venoms. I believe the not-regretted Nagini was gifted with that kind of venom." He smirked at her apparent discomfiture. "Do not worry too much about it, though. This side-effect is easily remedied with potions taken daily until my death. I ought to start my treatment today."

"Why not before?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

I will be patient, though patience clashes with tiredness. "Because it would have interfered with the antivenin possibly to the point of cancelling its effects. Now, this conversation is over. I believe it is time to move my bed to the windows."

Hermione checked her watch and saw it was only half an hour before the funerals started.

"If you can stand for a few seconds, Professor, I will Levitate your bed to the window," she offered.

Severus nodded and got out of the bed; he knew from her exploits that she was more than up to par for the task. He was only in his grey nightshirt, and Hermione got a glimpse of white calves and sparse tufts of black hair on his insteps below his grey nightshirt's hem.

"Here, sir. Your bed is ready."

She waited for him to climb back into his bed. Severus wondered for a moment if she was going to tuck him in. Of course not.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You can go now."

"Yes, sir. But I will be back for lunch."

He watched her walk around the beds and cubicles of the Hospital Wing. Her gait was easy on the eye, made even more pleasant by the undulation of her untameable hair hanging loose down her back and highlighted by the sunrays bathing the room in their warm, golden light.

Then Severus looked out of the window and concentrated his mind on the funerals to come. He wanted to pay tribute to the fallen properly.

He saw countless rows of chairs waiting for families, friends and officials. White tables stood in front of the chairs, aligned with Dumbledore's tomb. He could not discern their number, but there were too many. A lump formed in his throat; too many dead; too many lives taken too soon; he had nearly been one of them.

"Headmaster." He started when Madam Pomfrey addressed him. "I trust you'll be all right if I leave the Hospital Wing to attend the funerals?" He could only nod. "If need be," she added, "my wand will vibrate. I haven't lifted the enchantment you put on it." Not trusting his voice, he nodded again to thank her; she seemed to catch his meaning.

He refocused his attention back to the school grounds. Several chairs were occupied now, and people were scattered all over the place. Most of them were wizards, but the Muggles were easy to spot: they wore different clothing, and above all, they were the only ones in black from head to toe. The students who had fought against the Death Eaters or who had lost family members in the battle were given...provided said family members were not supporters of Voldemort...chairs in the front rows; they were mostly Gryffindors, and none of them was a Slytherin. He could not believe the students of his own House had been such a bunch of cowards. Not only had they all fled the castle at the first hint of an attack...with the notable exception of Draco and his two goons, but they had had no noble goal in doing so...but not even one of them had joined the Death Eaters to take part in the fight afterwards. He noticed Granger and Weasley holding hands...They should make the best of it, for it will not last...trailing behind Potter and the Weasley girl. The rest of the Weasley family was already taking seats in front of one of the white tables. Severus could glimpse the white corners of starched handkerchiefs protruding from their clenched fists.

The school staff arrived in one block. Officials of the Ministry could be seen Apparating beyond the gates. Under the trees of the Forbidden Forest, the centaurs' silhouettes stood out, the shade darker than that of their surrounding environment. He guessed the ghosts' presence from their moving shimmers, like Disillusioned living persons. A window was opened at the far end of the room to let in a bit of a breeze into the Hospital Wing. It also let in the heavy silence that permeated the assembly below.

He heard the castle's doors creak open. All attendants stood up as one and watched in direction of the noise. Soon, Aurors carrying coffins made in light wood appeared in his field of vision. Each white table received a coffin, and the Aurors drew back to their assigned place in the crowd. Kingsley Shacklebolt got to his feet to stand in front of the soon-to-be tombs. Severus could not hear his speech well, but the emotion in the black Minister's voice was unmistakable. This was not a half-hearted homage; this came from the depth of his being, and Severus felt moved. Words were pointless when faced with such grief.

Of course, that was the moment all the muscles of his left leg chose to twitch and loosen. He was thankful he had not been standing, but it was disturbing nonetheless. Mindlessly, he reached for his bedside table while keeping his eyes on the scene unfolding on the grounds, only to find that his bedside table had not been moved with his bed. He swore. Loudly. Twice, or maybe more. Gingerly, he put down his right foot on the floor and hopped to the table, plucked the last phial of Muscle-Controlling Potion with one hand...the other one was busy steadying him...managed to uncork it without spilling all of the potion on the floor and swallowed its contents. After a minute, he tested his left leg: it was firm. He walked normally back to his bed and found that the coffins and the white tables had disappeared. They were replaced by tombs in white marble, like clones of Dumbledore's. Drat! He had missed the part he had been expecting most, when the dead were truly put at peace. He would have liked to see the shape of the smoke above Lupin's tomb, to see of what the man's soul was really made. He would have to ask later.

The throng was already scattering. He heard noise in the corridor outside the Hospital Wing door and climbed back into bed quickly.

Madam Pomfrey burst into the room and made a beeline for his bed.

"How do you feel, Headmaster?" There was concern in her voice.

"Not bad, though I still had an incident during the funerals," he grumbled.

"It was to be expected." She sighed. "Can you stand?"

He nodded.

"Good. I need to put your bed back in its place."

When that was done, she resumed. "I see you've run out of Muscle-Controlling Potion. I've ordered a double batch. It should arrive at any minute now. I've prepared the potions you'll have to take daily for your appetite and sleep. The one for your appetite is to be taken a quarter of an hour before each meal, and the one for sleep when you go to bed."

Hermione joined them at that moment with her customary two trays.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. I appreciate very much the help you've given me." With that, Madam Pomfrey left them.

"I will leave you early today, sir. Harry, Ginny and Ron will be leaving this afternoon, and I want to say goodbye to them. But don't worry. I'll be here with your evening meal."

He inclined his head. "Very well." I will soon have her to myself.

This time, they ate in silence, both lost in their own memory lane inspired by the funerals.

Hermione found her friends packing their belongings in their trunks with more or less method, if piling things up haphazardly could be called a method where Ron and Harry were concerned.

"Let me," Hermione ordered more than suggested. "Pack!" she cried and waved her wand in long, sweeping movements over the beds and wardrobes, and even under the beds.

"I tried that spell," Harry said sheepishly. "Seems I'm not the only one with no hang of housework spells."

"Who else?" Ron asked.

"Tonks," Harry answered with a sad touch in his voice. The others did not ask for clarification.

The three of them got down into Gryffindor common room, where Ginny was already waiting for them. Her eyes were puffy, as if she had been crying not long before. Dean, Neville and Seamus, who had been sitting in another corner of the common room, joined them. Lavender and Parvati had left right after the funerals, and the rest of the students were leaving that afternoon, all except for Hermione. They chatted quietly there, reminiscing over their dead friends, discreetly sweeping their eyes, and discussing their future. Harry was to join the Aurors the next day. Ron was moving in with George with the intent to work with his devastated brother in the joke shop, having decided that he had had his share of Dark wizards for life. Neville intended to travel, to see for himself all the treasures of flora he had only read about. Dean, Seamus and, strangely, Hermione had no precise idea.

"And to say that I have to come back to Hogwarts in September!" Ginny moaned.

"Oh, you poor girl," Harry teased her. "Perhaps you should go camping. It earned us our NEWTs."

"Hrmph. It's unfair. You didn't even have to take the exams."

"Believe me, sis, if I had the choice, well, I never thought I'd say that, but I'd rather have double NEWTs than living another year like that," Ron interjected.

"I can't believe you've just said that either," Hermione said. "As for me, I think I miss the exams."

"Hermione!" the others exclaimed in unison.

"What?" she said defensively. "It's a rite of passage."

"Killing Voldemort was enough of a rite of passage for me," Harry asserted while pulling out of his pocket the watch he had received from the Weasleys for his seventeenth birthday. "Look! It's already that late!"

Armchairs were pushed back hastily, trunks were Levitated, and a procession of luggage and students proceeded to the school gates. Hermione hugged each of them and gave Ron a lingering kiss until the Knight Bus appeared in front of them in a bang. She watched them embark on the double-deck purple vehicle. Then, it disappeared in a bang, leaving her alone behind. She strolled back to the castle at a leisurely pace, thinking of the people who had been buried in the morning. She let her tears run freely while she contemplated the aligned tombs near the lake; it was such a nice day. Little did she know that she was being watched.

Severus was doing up the last buttons on his robes and gazing at the grounds through the windows of the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had declared that there was nothing more that she could do and discharged him from her care. He would have dinner in his rooms tonight. His eyes caught sight of Miss Granger looking like she was meditating in the sunlight of this late afternoon. I could invite her to share my meal as usual, except that this time, we would be in my rooms above the headmaster's office. The stunning view I have of the grounds and the Forbidden Forest from there would certainly help with my plan.

His decision made, Severus left the Hospital Wing and waited in the staircase leading to the Entrance Hall. As soon as Hermione got into the castle, he pretended that he was just climbing down the stairs.

"Professor! Did Madam Pomfrey let you go?"

"As you can see. She told me there wasn't anything else that she could do."

"Good." Hermione felt awkward. "Will you... will you need help with something?"

"I don't think so. But I'd like you to share my evening meal with me."

Severus smirked. "I wasn't clear enough. I meant I'd like to share my meal with you in my own rooms." Hermione's eyes widened. "You're the only person apart from Madam Pomfrey who knows the extent of my injuries, and I don't want to advertise them."

"Oh... Of course. I accept your invitation, Professor."

What did you think I invited you for, Miss Granger? Did you have the right idea? "Come to my office at seven. The password is 'daisy roots'."

He nodded at her and went outside to pay his own homage to the fallen.

When seven came, Hermione reached Severus's office. He opened the door even before she could knock.

"Miss Granger. Punctual, as always."

She blushed a little, for his remark sounded like a compliment, something she was not accustomed to coming from this man.

"Follow me."

The past headmasters' portraits followed her with their painted eyes. There was a lot of whispering going on from one portrait to the other; gossip was not a privilege for the living only. Hermione hardly had time to glance at Dumbledore's portrait, whose blue eyes watched her and Severus intently as they crossed the study.

Severus tapped his wand five times on a bare part of the wall between two bookshelves, and the right one pivoted. It hid a stony, spiral staircase. They both climbed it steadily and emerged in a vast but simply furnished living room. A table for two was laid on one side, while the other side was occupied by two armchairs and a sofa in front of a fireplace. Bookshelves and cupboards covered the ancient walls. Opposite to the fireplace and near the table were two large windowpanes overlooking the Forbidden Forest.

"How magnificent!" Hermione exclaimed. Forgetting herself, she strode to the windows and watched the scenery. The sun was low on the horizon above the forest. The tops of the trees were rippling with a lazy wind, which freshened Severus's living room thanks to an open window. She noticed Hagrid heading for the castle to have dinner with the other professors.

"Won't the other teachers say something about us missing dinner?" The question had been plaguing Hermione for the last two hours.

"I've informed Professor McGonagall about our whereabouts and the reasons why we wouldn't attend dinner with them. I think it'd be easier too to plan our trip to Australia far from prying ears."

"I understand, sir."

"I suggest we start eating. I have taken my 'appetite potion'," Severus put a slight, derogatory emphasis on the word, "a quarter of an hour ago."

He helped her into her seat and sat down in front of her. It was not a fancy dinner, just mixed salad and bread, and crème brûlée for dessert, but Hogwarts' house-elves knew how to make even a modest dish taste like a feast. They chatted quietly throughout the meal.

"So, we'll meet at seven tomorrow morning in your office and have breakfast together before we Floo to the Ministry. We take the ten o'clock Portkey to Sydney and arrive there at eight p.m. We head to our hostel, have a light dinner and take a Sleeping Draught to help us adjust to the time difference," Hermione summarised.

"Quite right, Miss Granger. Tomorrow, we take care of your parents and organise their return to England. The day after tomorrow, we make contact with Mimar Sinan. After that, we can only guess how long we'll have to stay in Australia." If I have my say, it will not be a short stay.

"Then, we agree. Er, would it be presumptuous to borrow one, or two, or more of your books for our trip? You'll be there to check on them, after all," Hermione asked him nervously, though her daring to ask was a testament to her feeling more at ease with him.

Why did I not think of it myself? Severus admonished himself. He could score so many points in his favour with his lending books to Hermione. "Of course, Miss Granger. I know you would never mistreat a book."

Hermione smiled warmly at him. Receiving compliments from a man so hard to please was a bit heady.

Severus led her to a bookshelf. "You might find those of interest." He chose three heavy-looking books: Ancient Runes and Their Secret Meaning, An Anthology of Wizarding Fiction Literature and The Real History of the Dark Arts.

"Thank you, sir. I think I'll enjoy these immensely."

"I don't doubt it. I wish I could carry on our conversation, but it is getting late, and we have a long day tomorrow. You should go to bed."

"Yes. I'll see you tomorrow, then." She nearly told him that he had not had a "muscle incident" tonight, but it would probably not have been a smart move.

"Good evening, Miss Granger." And Severus, ever the gentleman, walked her back to the gargoyle guarding his office entrance.