Chapters 121-130

Fama Volat

‘Harry?’ Hermione blinked. How did Harry come to be in hers and Severus’ bedroom?

She felt dizzy. When she tried to sit up, her arms wouldn’t cooperate and she collapsed on the pillows. Her muscles felt like jelly, a most ridiculous feeling. A pathetic, almost hysterical giggle at her weakness bubbled up inside her.

‘What happened?’ Her gaze flicked from Harry’s arm to the still form of her husband.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He was very pale. His right arm was covered in thick bandages and secured to his upper body with a sling.‘What do you remember?’

She frowned. ‘I was in the rose garden. I was…preoccupied. Then there was this white figure. I thought it was a student out of bounds. But it wasn’t, was it?’

Harry reached for her hand squeezed it, an awkward, left-handed gesture of comfort. His green eyes remained worried.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It…it was an Inferius. Hermione, someone raised Colin Creevey from the dead. And he…attacked you.’

‘What?’

Harry’s gaze slid over to Severus. ‘Madam Pomfrey is going to be right back.’

‘Harry! What happened?’

His hand flew up to his scar to rub it nervously. ‘Look. Hermione. I don’t really know! By the time the Aurors and I got to the rose garden, the two of you looked like statues or something. Completely immobile and covered with ice crystals. A few hours later, Snape suddenly slumped down, and you started breathing again.’

‘Breathing again?’ Her voice soared shrilly. ‘Is he all right? Harry, is Severus all right?’

Harry glanced quickly at the man lying next to her, almost as if he expected him to jump up and hex him into oblivion any second. ‘Yes, he’s fine. I promise. Both Madam Pomfrey and Healer Mugwort say that he’s only sleeping.’

Hermione sighed with relief. But her left hand, hidden under the covers, inched surreptitiously towards Severus. Only when she’d slipped her fingers under the hard curves of his ribs, only when she could feel the warmth of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing on top of her fingers, her frantic heartbeat quieted. Hermione turned her attention back to Harry. ‘And what happened to your arm?’ She concentrated on the clean white bandaged on Harry’s arm. Bandages were good. They were safe. Safer than thinking about not breathing.

‘He went into the Realm of Death to get you back,’ Harry added.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. ‘I can’t remember anything,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I only remember the rose garden. And then…nothing.’

An icy shudder shivered down her back. After a pause she forced herself to repeat her earlier question, ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’

Harry scowled. ‘Snape dropped the sword. I caught it before it hit you. While luckily the venom of the basilisk isn’t active anymore, the blade is still magical. And damn sharp.’

‘Oh, Harry!’ Her hand jerked, trembling midair. She wasn’t even strong enough to clap it to her mouth.

‘Why don’t you lie back down and sleep a while longer? Madam Pomfrey should be back any second. She’ll get mad at me if I’ve upset you or something.’

Hermione wanted to protest and tell him that she was much too scared to go to sleep again. But she never even noticed how Harry got to his feet again.

oooOooo

‘Hey, what are you doing there?’ Neville called out.

The girl jumped back, shaking. As he strode towards her, he realised that it was Anne Flamel. ‘I—I—was just—’ Her brown eyes were wide and frightened. In her hands she was holding a red tin that smelled strongly of fish.

She was standing next to the silver plate and goblet that still set on the lawn at the end of the rose garden.

‘Miss Flamel, have you any idea what happened here yesterday?’

The young woman flinched as if he’d struck her. He winced. He’d never spoken to a student in such a sharp tone before. And he really liked the—the—well, technically she was a young woman, he supposed. She was only a year younger than Ginny, after all.

‘I—I—’ She gulped. ‘I heard that Professor Snape killed a student,’ she whispered, dropping her gaze to the ground.

For a moment Neville just blinked at her. ‘You heard what?’

‘Sir, I don’t believe it, I—I couldn’t—he couldn’t possibly—but—’

For the first time in his life Neville could almost understand why Professor Snape reacted the way he did at some points during his own student years. He inhaled deeply and reviewed the feeding instructions for the Giant Genevian Goosetrap in his mind.

‘Miss Flamel, would you—would you mind taking a step backwards? Let’s—let’s move over there, to the wall.’

She looked at him blankly, but followed his lead.

‘Now,’ he continued. ‘Would you please tell me exactly what you heard and who you heard it from? And…’ He frowned at looked at the tin she was holding. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing with herrings in oil in the rose garden?’

Anne blushed again, especially the tip of her nose, which was a bit tilted and, as Neville thought very privately, rather cute.

‘Well, sir,’ she started shyly. When he nodded for her to continue, she swallowed hard and hurried on. ‘Well, sir, I—I heard it from a Hufflepuff. But he said he had it from a Ravenclaw and I think she had it from a—a Gryffindor, who had it from another Gryffindor, and I think he got it from a Slytherin.’

Neville resisted the urge to bury his face in the palms of his hands. ‘And what exactly did you hear? Miss Flamel?’

‘Well, that—that—’ She took a deep breath. ‘Professor Snape killed a student and in the process also his wife. And then he tried to k—kill Ha—Ha—’

‘Harry Potter?’ Neville just groaned.