Chapter Sixteen

A/N: This chapter is dark and deals with violence towards another person and the implication of perpetrating violence on another person. Please skip this chapter if you are uncomfortable with such violent actions (i.e. murder and poisoning) and read my author's notes at the end of the chapter. Thanks.

Chapter Sixteen

"Would you care for a cuppa or biscuit?" Dumbledore gestured to the tea service and sweet-laden cookie tier.

"Thank you, but no," Umbridge offered with a tight smile, perturbed at the ever-jovial headmaster. A pink pump tapped absently on the flagstone, beating out a soft rhythm of annoyance.

"I've official orders, Headmaster, and your attempt at interference, aside from causing problems with my superiors, is only prolonging the inevitable. The C.O.U.R.T. mandate will pass."

Dumbledore poured himself a cup of tea. "Yes, your orders, and from whom were they given?"

"I'm afraid your implications, Headmaster, are sorely lacking in truth."

"Forgive me; I have been merely keeping abreast of the latest fodder. One does hear rumors when one keeps certain, less than savory, company. By the by, how is Mister Yaxley?" Dumbledore brought the teacup to his lips, taking a dainty sip.

Umbridge puffed up. "I am not sure exactly what you mean, Headmaster. I do not make it a habit to consort with 'less than savory' characters, as you so eloquently put it. I'm afraid you might be more apt to associate with those prone to such habits..." a beat, "...if I were one to follow gossip." A shark's smile, feral, against coral-painted lips.

Nonplussed, the headmaster popped a lemon drop into his mouth, the candy dish nearly empty. Umbridge cleared her throat and produced a scroll. "I have here, by decree of the Ministry of Magic, a request that Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Miss Hermione Granger present themselves tomorrow at noon for birth and blood right registration." Umbridge unfurled the scroll. Dumbledore quickly scanned the contents.

"Of course, we mustn't defy an official decree from the Ministry. I have but one suggestion though: as is school policy, a member of the faculty or staff shall escort the children if they are to leave school grounds."

"I can assure you, Headmaster, Mr. Finch-Fletchley will be safe with Mr. Yaxley, and I shall accompany Miss Granger."

"Yes, that is all perfectly fine and well, but I must insist that Professor McGonagall and Rubeus Hagrid be in attendance, such as school policy dictates."

The small, conniving smile dimmed on Umbridge's face a fraction at Dumbledore's request. "The safety of the children is of the utmost importance, Headmaster." She nodded in begrudging agreement, knowing she had been outmaneuvered, and acquiesced to the older wizard's well-played trump card.

"We must discuss the particulars...."

******************

Beyond the blood rushing in her ears, Hermione could hear nothing. He loved her? "You love me?" she whispered, unsure whether she grasped his meaning correctly or if the liquor was clouding his better judgment.

"Truth and knowledge can be found outside the pages of a book, Miss Granger." Snape pushed himself up from his prone position and sat cross-legged in front of her.

"Why?" Hermione struggled to find a foothold to grasp at some normalcy and to regain composure in a situation in which she possessed no control, struggled to seek answers to questions spoken and left unspoken.

"Why not?" He shrugged noncommittally.

"But..."

He held up an elegant hand, effectively silencing her. "Not every question posed has an answer, rational or otherwise."

She nodded, accepting his explanation for the moment. Where she was open, her emotions playing across her face, expressing her every thought and fear, he was closed off, a wall of indifference, his emotions rarely on display. This man, who prided himself on the aloof persona he cultivated with such care, was nothing more than a wounded boy. A boy whose anguish and hurt ran deep into his very essence and lay guarded by an abiding sense of self-dependence and preservation.

"Something you find interesting about my person?"

His eyebrow rose.

Hermione sucked her lower lip between her teeth and averted her eyes. "May I see your Dark Mark?"

A moment of hesitation was the only indication that her request shocked him. Snape shrugged out of his frock coat. With nimble fingers, he removed his cufflink, unbuttoned the sleeve of his oxford, and pushed the crisp linen past his elbow, the angry black tattoo, a stain on his corrupted soul was revealed.

Hermione drew her body toward his, her fingers twitching above the marred skin of his forearm. A desire to run her tongue over the Mark, to sample its darkness, to feel and taste his pain, swept through her body with a shudder. Her pupils dilated, her breath coming in short, shallow pants.

Snape shifted his body from her. "I pray that my sickness and depravity that I have willingly surrounded myself with never comes to harm you, that the darkness my soul bares and that I hold in my heart is something that you will never be privy to." He closed his eyes, tears leaking from the corners. The kiss of saline glided down his cheeks in a baptism, bathing him in the weakness of emotion.

"Sev..." the words stuck in her throat as she choked back a mournful sob.

Severus exhaled, slowly collecting himself. "Miss Granger." He paused to sort out his next thought.

Hermione knew his tone all too well. He had seemingly shifted from man to professor, the chilling coldness of the transition jarring.

"Your incompetence has cost a day of labor and needed ingredients. I am afraid you have earned another night of detention." There was no humor or playfulness to his words. "Do you understand?"

"What is my punishment, sir?"

"A roll of parchment on the ways in which the Fideltious Fealty can be removed."

Agog, "But, sir..." she sputtered, "the only way in which the curse can be removed is if the caster, without undue influence, lifts it of their own volition." Hermione caught her breath. "I cannot possibly fill an entire parchment."

Snape shook his head. When would Miss Granger realize that the darker aspects of life were seldom found between the bindings of book covers? "Then I guess you will be looking towards a week's worth of detention. Might I suggest you make use of the library, as I expect the essay to be on my desk by the first bell for dinner this evening?"

"Yes, sir, I shall get right to it." A small smile curved her lips, knowing he assigned a task which could not be completed, due to lack of information, credited source material, and time constraints.

"I have placed my absolute faith in you... Hermione."

The Potions master watched the girl leave his chambers, willing a piece of himself to follow her. "Keep her safe," he breathed, "or I shall." The cutting edge brokered a promise through any means necessary.

The Floo sparked to life. "Severus," the disembodied head of Dumbledore spoke, "if you would be so kind as to come to my office?"

"I shall be there momentarily, Headmaster."

"Good. Very well, then."

The connection closed.

Severus sighed heavily, summoning a bottle of Sober-Up Potion, which he knocked back with the same ease as a shot. Rolling his sleeve down, he replaced the cufflink and picked his coat off of the floor. A quick shake of the frock dispelled any wrinkles before he hastily donned it. He forewent the Floo in favor of the walk to Albus' office. The journey would afford him the time to clear his head and occlude any stray thoughts.

**************

The Great Hall was nearly empty save for the few stragglers finishing the luncheon meal. Hermione snagged a turkey sandwich and apple from the Gryffindor table. Checking her watch, she had roughly five hours before her assignment was due and the supper bell chimed.

"Hermione!"

The excited squeal made her jump. "Goodness, Ginny, you've given me a fright," she said with a hand held to her chest.

"Harry asked me out." The words tumbled forth, Ginny flushing as bright as her hair.

"Ginny, I'm so happy for you." A genuine smile broke across Hermione's face.

"C'mon, I wanna show you the flowers he gave me."

"Gin, I'd love to, but I can't." She inhaled. "I've got an essay for Professor Snape that is due before dinner."

"C'mon, 'Mione, a half-hour... please."

"Okay, I suppose a half-hour won't hurt my studies too much," Hermione relented.

Ginny clapped her hands together excitedly. "Good, now, if we can keep you clean of Snape's nose."

She laughed, looping her arm with the older girl.

*****************

"Severus, please have a seat."

"Thank you, Headmaster, Minerva." Snape inclined his head in acknowledgment of the Transfiguration professor.

"I'm afraid I had a very troubling conversation with Dolores Umbridge." Weary, Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking every bit his age of one hundred plus years. "Here." He passed the Ministry decree to Severus.

The younger wizard read over the scroll, finger flexing on the delicate parchment.

"Hagrid and I will supervise the children." McGonagall swallowed. "Safety precautions."

"Headmaster, you have signed their death certificates."

"Now is not the time, Severus."

"Now is the perfect time, Headmaster," Snape snarled, tossing the decree on the desk, disgusted. "I warned you this would happen..."

Severus shrugged off Minerva's grasp on his forearm.

"I all but begged you not to place the Granger girl in my care, but you and your fucking infinite wisdom."

"Enough!" the Headmaster boomed.

"Mark my words: you will lose more than students tomorrow."

McGonagall gasped.

"If you had placed that damned know-it-all with her head of house, I could have perhaps interceded." A sharp glare to Dumbledore silenced any rebuttal. "I cannot risk my position twice, old man. He is growing ever impatient and blood thirsty."

Minerva gazed at her employer, her gaze imploring.

"How fortunate for him to have lambs being led to the slaughter." Snape sneered.

"We must meet with the children before tomorrow," the Transfiguration professor offered in an attempt to thaw the mounting tension.

"I've already met with Mr. Finch-Fletchley and Hagrid, and was going to schedule a time to meet with Miss Granger before dinner."

"Albus, I would like to be in attendance."

"Ever coddling your cubs, Minerva. Well, the persistent and incompetent swot will be late for your meeting, I'm due an essay on the importance of properly storing potion ingredients." Dismayed, Snape pushed himself from his chair. "If that is all..." Not waiting for an answer, he moved to the door.

"Severus, please have Miss Granger send a batch of lemon drops up with her this evening." Albus gestured to the empty candy dish. With a curt nod, he bowed gracefully toward Minerva and took his leave.

*******************

He was putting a stopper on a potions vial when she walked in.

"Lemon drops?" she inquired, the tin of hard candy laid open on his desk.

"You have an appointment with Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall shortly," he said, ignoring her comment.

"I know; Professor McGonagall found me in the library this afternoon." Hermione set her essay on his desk.

He gave it a cursory glance. "While I am glad to see you know your name, Miss Granger, I must inquire as to why this parchment is otherwise blank."

"You would know better than I, sir."

A noncommittal grunt, "it is a shame, is it not, that our esteemed library is severely lacking in information on the darker aspects of human nature." A glint of humor in his eyes.

Hermione perched on the vacant stool adjacent to his desk.

"Umbridge and Yaxley will be here tomorrow at noon to collect and escort you and Mr. Finch-Fletchley to the Ministry for registration."

At his words, dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Fear not, Minerva and Hagrid shall endeavor to aide in your protection." Sarcasm slowly dripped from his softly spoken words. "In this instance, the better angels of men will perish." Severus handed her the vial, which she uncorked and gingerly sniffed.

"What is it?"

"An antidote. Please drink it."

"An antidote for what?"

"Drink it, and I will tell you."

Cautiously, Hermione brought the vial to her lips, gulping down the mixture. She coughed, gagging. "Tastes retched."

A quiet hum, "better to be ill-tasting than suffer the effects it is meant to prevent."

Needing to get the taste out of her mouth, she reached for a lemon drop. The tin was promptly snatched from her reach. "I would not advise that."

"Why?"

"They are for the headmaster, and you are to deliver them to him."

Shifting the puzzle pieces together, "The lemon drops are why you gave me the antidote."

A smirk graced his lips. "Bright girl, correct as usual."

Realization, "they're poisoned." Hermione began to feel lightheaded. "You're poisoning Professor Dumbledore." She was horrified at notion.

"All illusion is based in truth, my dear. Albus will experience nothing more than mild discomfort, which he will assume is associated from one too many sweets." Almost to himself, Snape added, "He has built up a remarkable tolerance."

Oh, God, Hermione felt sick. Gooseflesh rose on her skin.

"It is a pity Minerva will be waylaid, such nasty affects this brew."

Hermione was chilled by his calm, almost serene demeanor.

"Nothing fatal, I assure you, only the physical manifestation of an irritated bowel."

"But how...?" Hermione spoke, regaining her voice.

"I am not an amateur, Miss Granger. Traces will not be left."

The Irritious Symptomous had an efficacy of an hour and was a time-released potion. Symptoms of fatigue, cramping, vomiting, diarrhea, and profuse sweating would become present within three to four hours of ingestion. The toxin, once taken into the bloodstream, would be exhaled out of the body roughly a half-hour after consumption, leaving no trace of poison, yet the victim would still be afflicted with symptoms for five to eight hours more, depending on dosage.

"You'll be late for your meeting." Snape handed her the tin. "Partake in the sweet, but have no more than three. On your way." He dismissed her.

*****************

Hermione's mind wandered elsewhere. With glassy eyes, she watched Dumbledore pop three lemon candies into his mouth. Professor McGonagall was reaching for her second tart treat. Voices sounded muffled to her ears, the words hard to discern, even as she watched their lips move. On automatic response, she took the proffered candy and with shaking fingers placed it in her mouth.

***************

He felt the tiredness seep into his bones. The sun would be rising soon. Collapsing into his wingback, he withdrew the translucent thread of grey matter, watched as it floated in the liquid pool of his memories and deepest desire to be retrieved at a later date.

****************

"Any particular reason you have me gallivanting across Muggle London in the middle of the night?"

"It's a shame two Brothers will have to perish, but rogues must be ferreted out." With a nod of his head, "I bid you goodnight, old friend."

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A/N: As usual, heartfelt thanks and gratitude to my beta, SLU, and to all my readers and reviewers.

A/N: The Irritious Symptomous is of my own creation. It is based on an experience I had with food poisoning a few years back and the scene with the eyedrops in the movie "Wedding Crashers". I know nothing of toxicology.

A/N: From here on out, this story will take on a very dark tone. I do not advocate or condone violence as a means to an end. Nor do I see violent actions as being the only way to settle problems.