Chapters 91-100

Teardrops on Roses, Whiskers on Kittens

On Friday, July 7, 2000, a blood-curdling scream shattered the quiet of a summer morning in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione jumped, and promptly dropped the cup of tea she’d been about to lift to her mouth.

Neville was already on his feet, wand drawn and pointed steadily. Severus was just a fraction of a second slower than the younger man.

The next moment Filch came hurtling into the Hall, his thin hair flying, his jowls red and throbbing, his face contorted into a grimace of fury, his eyes bulging on the verge of an apoplexy.

‘She… ’ he sputtered and stabbed his index-finger at Hermione. ‘She…The damn witch and her monster! Hurting! Raping! Torturing!

‘I will kill you if she dies!’

And with that Filch broke down on the floor, crying in great heaving sobs.

oooOooo

When Minerva McGonagall finally emerged from Filch’s office, there was a pinched, pale look to her face. Her lips pursed and her nose even thinner than normally, she looked ready to run for the loo.

‘I want a whisky,’ she rasped. ‘And I want it now.’

‘So, Minerva,’ Snape asked. ‘How is the new mother?’ He quirked an eyebrow. ‘And the proud…“foster-father”, I suppose?’

The corners of his mouth were twitching with helpless mirth. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and bit into her hand to suppress an agonised moan.

‘Is it possible? Our resident expert for all things feline—at her wit’s end?’ Severus smirked, while Hermione contemplated that if ever there was a perfect moment to attempt transfiguring herself into a mouse and running for the nearest hole, then this was it.

‘The new mother,’ Minerva retorted with a voice that could freeze the Hogwarts lake in spite of the heat of early July, ‘is protectively purring over five quarter-kneazles. Three of them fluffy and ginger, two of them scruffy and dust-coloured.’

Hermione whimpered and ducked her head, while her husband had trouble to conceal a disgustingly cheerful expression.

‘The “foster-father”,’ the Headmistress went on, ‘has just passed out again. And the biological father is living up to his nature and thus—’, she fixed Hermione with a gimlet gaze to make her toenails curl up with fright, ‘—thoroughly disinterested in the proceedings.’

At that point Neville Longbottom collapsed against the wall because he was laughing too hard to stay on his feet a second longer.

oooOooo

The document to inform them that the Probations Official of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had challenged the validity of their marriage arrived at breakfast the next morning. The date for the test of their marriage—separate questioning by Aurors after the administration of a dose of Veritaserum—was set for August 15, 2000.

oooOooo

‘I know you don’t want to hear it, but we need to talk about this.

‘If worst comes to worst, you need to be prepared. I have visited a notary and drawn up the necessary documents. Upon my death you will inherit everything I own, including a small house in Spinner’s End, a rather dilapidated building in the north of England, a small amount of money…and of course, all my books.

‘However, I have already made arrangements so that you’ll find a certain number of books set aside with instructions on how to destroy them. The only thing I ask you to do is to follow those instructions meticulously.‘ Severus spoke in a quiet voice and pointedly ignored Hermione, who was desperately twisting her fingers, silent tears running down her cheeks.

‘The plans for my lessons, along with all of my notes concerning the students and my other duties you will find in my study, should the need arise. The wards are keyed to your wand. I have left a letter for Minerva that recommends you as my successor as Potions mistress and Draco Malfoy as Head of Slytherin House.’

‘How can you talk about that so calmly?’ Hermione asked furiously. ‘You don’t KNOW if we will fail that test!’

‘Hermione.’

She couldn’t bear the way he looked at her. That bleak, black gaze.

‘Someone has cursed the entire wizarding genealogies to prevent me from fulfilling the conditions of my probation. Only the strangest twist of chance or fate and a…shall we say most fortuitous misunderstanding due to the workings of some of the most ancient magicks of the wizarding world has brought us where we stand today.

‘Make no mistake. We will fail that test. No matter how hard we try. And it will only hurt you worse, if you try so very hard. You cannot keep me safe. No one can. The best we—the best I can hope for is to keep you safe.’

‘Harry—’

‘Harry will try,’ he said tiredly. ‘I have no doubt that the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Walking-Martyr-Complex will do his best to keep me out of Azkaban. But didn’t you listene to Draco? Harry’s position in the Wizengamot is not exactly undisputed. And Andromeda Tonks-Black, newly appointed president of the Court of Probations bears little goodwill towards me. And for an excellent reason, I might add.’

‘But you didn’t kill them! You didn’t torture her!’ Hermione’s voice cracked as she threw herself at him, clutching at his damn frock coat, trying to grab his resisting arms, wanting to beat him, slap him, hurt him, just to make him fight, fight for his life, his future—for their lives, for their future.

For their love!

But Severus kept his arms crossed, and although his voice was almost gentle, he did not touch her, and barely looked at her.

‘No, I did not. But neither was I able to keep them safe. Others lived, while her loved ones died. And I am the only one who would have been in a position to possibly change things for her family. It doesn’t matter that I do not see how. Or that I did the best I could. They are still dead—while I’m alive.’