Some Great Adventure
Severus found her deep in a dark corner of the Leaky Cauldron, sitting at a table usually preferred by banshees and hags and criminals who wanted to hide. It was a place no respectable witch would ever want to be seen.
He was looking for her there.
"What do you think you are doing, Miss Granger?" He stood in front of her, his robes shielding her and their conversation from the rest of the pub.
She looked up at him. "I though it might be a nice place to visit."
There was no food or drink on her table, just her clenched, shaking hands. Her nail polish was chipped, and blue and green ink was smeared across her fingers.
"You know they're looking for you?" He bent close to her, keeping his voice low. "They're hunting you." He glanced over his shulder, wondering if anyone was watching them.
She shrugged. "They've spent years looking for me. Running away gets tiring after a while." She pushed her chair away from the table and began to stand.
"No." He grabbed her arm and clutched it tightly, glaring at her until she was sitting again. "They'll send you to Azkaban."
She snatched her arm back and held it in the light, examining it. He had left red finger marks. "I don't care."
"Azkaban isn't some great adventure," he hissed. "It's no obstacle course, no problem you can instantly solve with a clever piece of wand work."
"I don't solve all my problems with my wand," she protested, a shrill note entering her voice. "And I don't intend to be caught. There are helpers, you know. People are out there, looking out for me."
"No." He shook his head. "There isn't. There's no network of joyful helpers. No secret rooms stashed above respectable businesses. There's no one out there, Granger. Just you."
"And you," she added. "You wouldn't be here otherwise."
She was right. He had come to help her, to warn her, to aid the cause that didn't really exist anymore. He was there because he was the only one left, because everyone else was locked up or missing or dead.
"We lost Minerva," he whispered, right in her ear. Maybe his closeness would accentuate the danger she was facing. Maybe he could get her to listen . . .
Her face lost all its colour and she looked as though she was about to be sick. "So, I'll just stay one night and move on early in the morning." She looked up at him. "You've got a safe place, don't you?"
Severus looked down at the dirty, beer stained floor and then back up at her. "I have rooms. They're close."
She pulled her cloak tight around her. "Can we apparate there?"
"No." He glanced over his shoulder again. "They've placed barriers on the Leaky Cauldron."
She nodded. "So we'll have to take our chances then."
"Why couldn't you remain in some far flung corner of the world where I wouldn't have to concern myself with you?" He examined her clothes. "Please tell me you have a hood on that cloak at the very least?"
"Of course." She pulled it up and tucked her hair inside, pulling the dark fabric close around her face. "Are you ready?"
"I should leave you here."
"But you won't."
"You know they'll kill me if they see you?" He helped her to her feet. "They'll be happy to kill you too."
"Not until they've tortured me." She walked close to him, hiding herself from the few remaining patrons of the Leaky Cauldron. She kept her head low, leaning into him as if she'd had too many drinks and needed help getting home. She fell quiet as they passed the sleepy guards at the door, and waited until he pulled out his wand. "Why do you help me, if you're so concerned?" She whispered.
"Some misguided sense of loyalty. Or idiocy." He tapped his wand against the bricks and waited as the entrance way opened. "There may be guards," he warned, "the Ministry's flunkies. If they stop us, I've hired you for the night."
She opened her mouth to complain, but Severus was already pulling her through the archway into Diagon Alley. They moved quickly, keeping to the shadows, before walking down the narrow pathway into the abnormally quiet Knockturn Alley. Four buildings down, Severus made a sharp turn, pulling Granger up an ancient set of stone stairs and intohis flat. He locked the door behind them, and pulled the curtains all the way across the small, dirty windows, before lighting the three lanterns situated around the edges of the room.
"Why did you come?" he asked, turning around to face her.
She shrugged off her cloak. It wasn't black, as he had thought, but a rich maroon colour, the same shade as her precious Weasley used to wear. "I really just couldn't stay away."
"That's not good enough. You cannot do any good here."
She smiled. "Is there any excuse good enough for you, Professor Snape?"
Severus watched as she sat down in his favourite chair. "It's not likely." He sat down opposite her. "And I am no longer a professor. Things have changed since we began this . . . campaign."
"I know." She leaned forward and looked at him, curiously. "Do you miss teaching?"
"Do I miss incompetent first years, and know it all fourth years and seventh years who turn up in my classroom dolefully unprepared?" He glared at her. "Not in the slightest."
She smiled. "I don't believe things have changed as much as you say they have."
She'd changed, Severus realised. She wore her hair shorter, cut well above her shoulders, though it was still as frizzy and uncontrollable as ever. Her features were more defined than the last time he'd seen her, and he guessed she was thinner underneath her robes. She seemed calmer than he remembered, as if some of her former passion and fire had been extinguished. Suddenly he wondered if she was ready to give up, if she was about to discard the mission.
"What happened in Germany, Granger?" He was determined to get to the bottom of the matter, to find out why she had returned. "I thought things were going well. The reports told us that you were making progress."
"Why do you call me Granger?" She tucked her feet up beside her. "I think you should call me Hermione if we really are the only two left. I could call you Severus."
He stared at her. "You're giving it up, aren't you?"
She looked away, avoiding his gaze. "I fell in love with someone like you, Severus. Just for a week or so. He was harsh and demanding and a little bit cruel. It was the worst sex I have ever had."
Severus stood and crossed the room, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look him in the eye. "Are you giving it up, Hermione?"
She frowned and bit down on her lip before finally nodding. "I don't know if you'd call it giving up. I'd have to still be fighting if I wanted to give it up. I stopped fighting a while ago, you know." Her voice trailed off.
"What are you going to do?" Severus shook her a little.
She leaned her head to one side. "I was thinking about exploding myself right in the middle of Diagon Alley. If I do it right, I might be able to get some fire. It could be fun."
He shook her again, harder. "What happened to the cause Hermione? What happened to restoring a proper Ministry? To restoring all our lost freedoms?" There were tears in her eyes and he stopped shaking her. "What happened to the Granger who devoted years of her life to the welfare of house elves?" Severus was surprised by the passion he could hear in his voice, surprised that he cared whether Hermione Granger lived or died.
She pushed him away and stood up. In one swift movement she pulled the folds of her robes away from her, revealing her almost naked body underneath. Sketched down the left side of her stomach were six thick, red lines, like the scratches of some overgrown wild animal.
"What is that?" After all his years working for Voldemort, Severus thought he knew all there was to know about pain and injury. But this was something new.
"It's a new type of torture." She dropped her robes. "They don't even need to know where I am. They can inflict it whenever and wherever they like. It's been going on sporadically for about a year now."
"Have you tried to block it?"
"Of course," she shrugged. "I couldn't find anything that worked."
"I might have a potion . . ." he began to walk away.
She grabbed at his wrist, wrapping her fingers around it. "I'm really too tired to be experimenting with potions at the moment. I'd prefer a drink if you have one lying around."
"Of course." He stepped away from her and walked to the tiny kitchen, removing a bottle of wine and two glasses from the cupboard. At the doorway he stopped, watching her. She had curled herself back into the armchair and was leafing through one of his books.
"Why," he asked as he walked towards her, "are you spending your last night with me?"
She closed the book and took a glass from him. "I wanted to finish in a place I knew, beside people I know. I was really hoping Minerva . . ." she looked at him hopefully.
He shook his head. "I wasn't lying. They manufactured some evidence against her. Killed her right on the spot when she struggled." He poured some wine into her glass. "I guess you're stuck with me."
She gulped at her wine. "I've had worse offers, you know."
Severus filled his own glass and sipped from it. "I'm not going to sleep with you Granger."
She looked at him steadily. "I know there was a reason I was hoping Minerva would be here."
He laughed and finished his glass of wine. 'Tell me what happened in Germany."
"There was a raid," she curled herself up into his chair, "then another and another. I'm fairly certain there's no Muggle-born presence on the continent or in England. I'm probably the last one." She shrugged and swallowed another mouthful of wine. "They were just stronger than we were."
He leaned forward and took the wine glass from between her fingers. "Are you really going to kill yourself tomorrow?"
She nodded, her eyes wide and determined. "I'd like some say about how I go." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I don't want to be tortured anymore, Severus."
"I'm sorry," Severus crossed his arms and felt painfully inadequate. "Can I do anything to help?"
She shook her head. "They don't suspect you. You could live a long life if you wanted."
He nodded. "Come and get some sleep, Granger. You've got a big day, tomorrow."
He woke to loud thumps on the door and an empty space in the bed next to him. A slip of paper on the pillow slipped out of his fingers as he reached for it.
"Severus Snape," bellowed an authoritarian voice outside. "We are the Ministry's Secret Guard. Let us in immediately."
He lunged across the bed and picked the piece of paper up from his dusty floor. As he read it, he could hear his front door being blasted open . . .
Dear Severus,
I've gone to turn myself it. Guess I'll see you in Azkaban.
Love Hermione.