Chapters 81-90

A Warning

Snape looked at the parchment in deep contemplation. Absently he drummed his right index-finger against his lips. ‘I seem to recall a rumour that the Unspeakables have access to preview ticker tape. Pardon the question, Potter, but why am I not dead yet?’

‘HARRY!’ Hermione cried. ‘You don’t believe that rubbish, do you?’

Harry ignored her and fixed Snape with a steady gaze. Then he smirked and put his wand back into his holster. ‘If I believed it, don’t you think my wand would be pressed against your throat right now?’

Snape snorted. ‘In point of fact I would have expected not to be alive long enough to witness you entering this room—if that were the case. Most…unexpected of you, Potter. To develop common sense so late in life.’

Harry just shrugged. ‘I’ve always been a bit of a late bloomer.’

Hermione thought she could detect just the barest hint of a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Severus must have seen it, too, as his right eyebrow quirked in surprise. Apart from that he kept his expression stony, and only an infinitesimal change in his posture betrayed any tension. ‘Should I expect Mr. Weasley trying to break into my quarters tomorrow?’

Without waiting for an invitation, Harry slumped down on the armchair next to Severus. ‘Ron’s the least of your worries, trust me. Or even this damn rag. Did you know that Draco has started working at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?’

Severus shook his head. ‘Andromeda has made it clear that she does not want him to contact me and he respects his aunt’s wishes.’

Untypically, Harry didn’t launch into a tirade about fairness and instead merely exhaled in a sigh. ‘Draco’s very good at sucking up to the most awful types in the Ministry. He’s even better at knowing things before anyone else does, in spite—or maybe because of?—his background.’

For the first time Harry turned to Hermione. She realised that he hadn’t wanted to face her because he was worried that his expression would betray his feelings. The turmoil that blazed in his eyes hit her like a fist to her stomach.

‘Hermione, sit down.’ Severus’ voice seemed to come from far away.

Somehow she made it over to the third armchair, turned towards the windows for cosy reading with a lovely view of the lake.

‘Reliable sources indicate that the validity of your marriage will be challenged. You will be given a month’s notice, then you will be questioned separately. Veritaserum will be administered. They want you to fail.’

‘Hmm.’ Severus remained composed. As if nothing of what Harry said had anything to do with him. ‘That took rather longer than I expected.’

His fingers strayed to the bridge of his nose, where the vertical line between his brows stood out sharply. ‘Very well. What do you suggest, Potter?’

‘I? Suggest?’ Harry blinked, taken aback by Snape’s calm reaction.

‘I assume if you had mastered to curb your unfortunate impulse to commit to pointless acts of martyrdom, you would not be here now.’

Harry was so obviously at a loss for words that a faint smile curled Severus’ lips. ‘No more witty repartee, Potter?’

The young wizard shook his head helplessly. ‘You’re way out of my league yet, sir.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Very well.’ Harry’s voice turned business-like and strangely adult. Hermione stared at her old friend in surprise. He had changed so much. But they all had.

‘The two of you should use the advance warning to prepare yourself. If—if you fail, I will take up the defence of your case in the Wizengamot together with ‘Ace’ Loxweild-Spalt.
‘I also suggest a meeting with Ron, Lois and Alina, but of course I leave the decision about that to your discretion. Whatever you decide, I will talk with Ron. You won’t have to worry about any ill-aimed bat-bogey hexes—from either Weasley. I think I can promise that.’

Harry sighed. ‘At the moment that’s really all I can come up with.’

Severus appeared to ponder these propositions. At last he nodded. ‘More than enough, Potter. I shall think about it. Now—would you excuse us, please? I should like a moment alone with—with my wife.’

oooOooo

Another surprise: after embracing Hermione fiercely and nodding politely to Severus, Harry simply left—almost as quickly as he had appeared.

‘Come here,’ Severus said after Harry had gone. When she just sat there and stared at him, he repeated, a little more forcefully, ‘Come to me, Hermione!’

She obeyed, unsteady on her feet, her mind reeling. He reached for her and drew her down towards him, until she ended up in his lap, leaning against his right shoulder. He wrapped his right arm around her, while his left hand came up to stroke her hair. Severus did not speak for a long while, only rested his head against hers while he gently trailed his fingers through her hair, exploring the shape of her head. The slow, steady movements did what words could not have done. They calmed her.

At last his fingers stilled.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured.

oooOooo

On Tuesday morning, May 9, 2000, the Hufflepuff hourglass was filled with 387 amber beads. On Tuesday evening, after Johannes Flamel had inexplicably insulted Professor Snape by marching right up to him at lunch and saying ‘I—I—I’m s—s—sorry, sir. B—b—but y—y—you’re a g—git, sir.’ the hourglass contained 337 amber beads.

Madam Pomfrey, after having administered a liberal dose of calming draught to a hysterically giggling Hufflepuff First Year, was suffering from one of those ominous moments of foresight that are less due to a gift of prophesy than to long experience as matron of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Something had happened or was about to happen. And she didn’t have any idea what it would turn out to be: good, or bad. If she’d been a witch to place bets, though, she would have said ‘bad’.