Chapters 241-250

Ugly Duckling

‘A swan?’ Ron snorted. ‘But Hermione never was a swan. More like the ugly duckling.’ He chuckled. ‘Though she was quite good at hen-pecking us into line.’

Then he caught the expression on Snape’s face.

‘Ron, you prat!’ Harry’s voice was tight with anger.

‘Oh, Ron you great oaf,’ Ginny scolded. ‘You should be grateful that she nagged the two of you the way she did. I doubt you’d have passed your OWLs without her!’

But Ron didn’t appear to hear her at all. His gaze had followed the direction of Snape’s.

A beautiful, swan-shaped Patronus drifted serenely next to Victoire’s wooden toy ship in the small garden pond of the Burrow. When Ron turned away, Ginny thought she could see tears glittering in the corners of Ron’s eyes.

‘I—uh—I better go—check on Lois and Mum in the kitchen,’ Ron mumbled and hurried from the room.

Ginny took a deep breath and went to stand next to Snape. ‘I’m so sorry.’

The Potions Master only shrugged, without looking away from the swan. ‘Mr. Weasley has never been one to mince words,’ he commented, his voice laced with just a hint of sarcasm.

The absence of a scathing reply scared Ginny. Just a year ago she’d have been scraping Ron’s flayed skin from the ceiling, metaphorically speaking. And now…she desperately wanted to offer Snape a word of comfort, but what was there to say?

To her surprise it was Snape who added something. ‘He is right, of course. Hermione has never been what most people consider a great beauty. But she is beautiful to me. And always will be.’

Ginny knew it was probably a bad idea, but she just had to ask. ‘Do you know why?’

‘Why a swan for the ugly duckling?’ Snape raised an eyebrow, while outside the form of the Patronus dissolved into thin air. ‘Last Christmas Hermione ‘nagged’ me, as you put it, into going to a concert with her. Tchaikovsky’s ‘Swan Lake’. I only recently realised how much I enjoyed it.’

oooOooo

Boxing Day at the Burrow was not quite as distasteful as Severus had anticipated. At least most people seemed content to leave him be, sitting in silence. Even Ron’s blunder did not annoy him anymore than an exploded cauldron in a shared lesson of Gryffindors and Slytherins; it was expected, he was used to it. What hurt most was to hear one of Hermione’s closest friends speak of her in past tense.

She is not dead, he thought, his gaze resting on his new swan-shaped Patronus. Surely I would know it if she was dead.

Dinner passed with good-natured banter and the exchange of news both trivial and momentous as far as the lives of those present were concerned.

Only last week they had received the final verdict from the eye specialists at St. Mungo’s. Harry’s eyes resisted any spells to infuse them with magical vision and Harry resisted the idea of having his eyes removed so he could have ‘proper’ magical eyes à la Moody.

‘Sometimes I think I see something. Shapes or shadows or something. So maybe the optic nerves haven’t hardened completely,’ he insisted.

When George teased him, hinting that Harry was only afraid that magical softening of his eyes might interfere with other body parts hardening to a higher degree than before, Ginny couldn’t stop giggling.

Hannah showed off baby Scorpius. But to Severus’ surprise it was Neville who took care of the baby throughout the day. Harry’s face hardened whenever he heard Hannah’s voice. Obviously there were bad feelings between them. Though both Draco (who was dating a ghost from the archive of the French Ministry of magic now) and Hannah, who’d named the baby for Draco after all, insisted that between the two of them there were none.

Lois looked soft and happy, and laughed at Arthur Weasley’s ridiculous suggestions concerning names for her twins.

And Alina was thankfully scribbling non-stop about Cato Cornell.

oooOooo

Late that night, when most of the guests had already left, Harry drew him aside and led him into Arthur’s study, a small room that was stuffed from floor to ceiling with the most impossible Muggle gadgets, in all imaginable states of disrepair.

‘Something’s come up that we need to talk about,’ Harry said. ‘I’d rather not discuss it today, but I felt I should warn you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘There’s talk at the Ministry of closing the case on February 1 next year.’

Severus had to close his eyes for a second. He was grateful that Harry would not be able to see this moment of weakness. ‘That is the traditional period of time allotted to such investigations,’ he said tersely.

Harry nodded. ‘Severus, are you sure that she’s still alive?’

Sometimes there was no greater pain than honesty.

‘I don’t know,’ he replied simply. ‘The Bond of master and apprentice as well as the Bond between husband and wife should convey that at the very least. But wherever Hermione is kept, not even the Bond can reach her.’

‘Would you know for sure if she were dead?’

‘I believe so. But,’ Severus admitted, ‘sometimes I fear that my perceptions are clouded.’ He shook his head. ‘With wards that are strong enough to withstand the magic of house-elves, any wishful thinking on my part might distort any traces of the Bond.’ Wearily he rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘And I cannot deny that I am prone to wishful thinking where Hermione is concerned.’ He straightened up. ‘Well. I’d better Apparate back to Hogwarts now. Midnight rounds.’

After a moment’s hesitation he quickly squeezed Harry’s shoulder. ‘Thank you for letting me know.’

oooOooo

That night, Severus dreamed of a broad, meandering river, dappled green and golden with sunlight slanting through the trees, alders, willows and dignified poplars. On the river two swans were drifting with the currents.

One of them was black. The other white.

She is alive, he thought in that dream. And I will find her.