Chapters 161-170

The Phoenix Hope

‘Woodstock?’ Hermione asked tentatively.

‘Chirrup!’ the phoenix replied with conviction.

‘Oh dear,’ Lois said.

‘Bloody hell.’ Ron gulped.

Then Snape glared at Alina. The girl stared at the wizard. The wizard stared at the girl. The phoenix remained completely unconcerned and nibbled on her herbs. And the wizard’s wife? Hermione was choking with laughter.

oooOooo

‘It’s not a bad name,’ Hermione insisted later. ‘I always liked Snoopy. And besides: Woodstock—make love, not war!’ She winked suggestively at her husband.

I’m not seeing this, Ron thought.

Snape shook his head, but his lips twitched slightly, and his eyes glittered with silent promises.

I really don’t want to see this, Ron thought

‘If you say so,’ Snape replied evenly.

‘Chirp,’ commented the phoenix.

And Ron just wanted to go home.

oooOooo

When they sat in the kitchen with beer, tea, sandwiches, cakes, and scones, Ron felt…weird. At once way too comfortable and utterly discomfited. In his mind, Ron tried to justify himself.There was his ex-girlfriend cuddling his ex-Potions-professor. Her husband. And there was the daughter of his current girlfriend gazing up at his ex-Potions-professor with adoration in her eyes.

What the hell was he supposed to do about all of that?

Except, of course, ask for another beer.

We’re all adults here except for Alina, he continued to argue with himself. As an adult, I can handle visiting Hermione and her husband on Boxing Day. I mean, she’s still my best friend, and he is her husband. It’s okay if I enjoy—I mean, naturally I don’t enjoy spending the day with Snape. I’m only here because of Hermione and Lois, after all. But there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a good discussion of Quidditch over a pint, right? Right.

That issue resolved, Ron leant back in his chair and dared to raise his glass towards Snape.

And that, of course, was the moment it happened. The little Jarvey turned on its back in Alina’s arms and tossed his golden toy into the air, happily burbling incomprehensible Latin insults.

‘What’s that thing Cicero’s playing with?’ Hermione asked.

‘Just some kind of bauble,’ Alina replied sleepily. ‘Hagrid gave it to Cicero for Christmas. He found it in the burrow of the orphaned Jarveys. You know how they are…always stealing anything that glitters. It’s a golden ring without a stone. Cicero loves to play with it.’

Snape jerked upright in his chair. ‘Miss Petrel—may I see that ring, please?’

Six years in Snape’s dungeon had taught Ron at least to recognise the underlying tension in the man’s smooth voice. Alina seemed to sense that something was amiss, too, because she handed over the ring without protest or question. Snape took it and examined it carefully from all sides. Hermione was watching her husband, and Ron could see how she was growing more worried by the second.

‘Severus,’ she whispered at last. ‘Please tell me that this isn’t—’

Snape laid the ring on the table. Ron bent forwards. It was a man’s ring, a broad band of gold, and its stone must have been quite a hunk—

Stone?

‘Yes,’ Snape replied. ‘That is the ring that contained the Resurrection Stone.’

oooOooo

‘That doesn’t have to mean anything,’ Harry said. ‘The stone was cracked; maybe it simply slipped out of the setting. It’s very possible that it’s still in the forest. Maybe even in that Jarvey burrow.’

Snape raised his eyebrow. ‘Do you really believe that, Harry?’

Harry’s shoulders slumped and he wearily rubbed his scar. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I wish I could imagine that the only thing that happened to the stone was a centaur that inadvertently stepped on it and ground it deep into the forest soil. But I’m not that naïve. Magical items have the unfortunate tendency to be found.´

‘I think we must assume now that they, whoever they are, have the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand in their possession right now.’ He sighed. ‘At least I’m still the rightful Owner of the Elder Wand.’

‘Are you?’ Hermione asked. ‘Are you really? Lost any Quidditch matches lately, Harry? Or a bet? Dumbledore wanted Severus to become the next Owner of the Elder Wand, and we all know how well that worked out.’

The silence lengthened. The attendants of the impromptu Order meeting did their best not to look at Hermione or Harry or Snape—or really anywhere else besides their plates, goblets, or fingernails. Winky happily bustled about between the Aga and the Charmed pantry.

Ron awkwardly cleared his throat. ‘So what happens now?’

‘You go home, and we—’ Snape glanced at Hermione, who looked pale and scared, with darkening circles under her eyes. ‘—go to bed.’

When Ron winced instinctively, Snape frowned.

‘Mr Weasley,’ Snape said with surprisingly little venom in his voice. ‘There’s nothing we can do—except what we are already doing: implement the plans we have made.

‘We’ll brew that Sempiternal Solution and hope that it will create a link between Hermione’s wands and mine. We’ll pass beyond the Veil and hope to find the source of that leeching curse, and that we’ll be able to break that curse. And, of course, we’ll attend that New Year’s party at the Burrow.’ Looking at Harry, he raised an eyebrow. ‘Unless you no longer insist on my presence, of course?’

‘You wish, Severus. You’re coming.’ Harry smirked, but the grin didn’t reach his eyes.

oooOooo

Two hours later Severus held Hermione in his arms. She had fallen asleep quickly after a long, exhausting day. But he couldn’t sleep. He lay in the darkness and listened to Hermione’s breathing. His thoughts kept going back to what he’d told Weasley—and what he hadn’t said.

…and hope that we’ll come back, back to the ones we love.

Severus sigh was barely audible. Hope. He had no experience with hope, or even with wanting to have hope. How did one go about it? he wondered. Where to find hope in a thoroughly hopeless situation?

oooOooo

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