For All Intents and Purposes

Disclaimer: Don’t own it.

Edited by: thyme_is_a_cat

Chapter 12 – Mediation at its Finest

Hermione had always been under the impression that few could sulk more moodily than Ron Weasley. It hadn’t taken much: a lost Quidditch bet or getting trounced at Auror training, and he would meld with the sofa cushions and drink tepid tea, staring at the ceiling as if he expected some gross insult from above. Hermione usually made herself scarce lest he pull her down into his spiral of dejection or she smack him upside the head (and increase the length of his sulk by a factor of four). It should have been no surprise that Severus had him beat, hands down. He seemed to darken the very air around him with gloom, despite the obstinately cheery sunshine that morning had delivered. Even the watery smudge that distinguished his Disillusioned form had a hint of pollution. She was sure that if he were presented with a sofa and tea, Severus would throw the tea against the wall and light the sofa on fire.

Once it had been decided that Lupin would guide them to the warehouse and that they would fly by broomstick, Severus had descended into a silence so churlish that Hermione had been uncomfortably reminded of Ron and Harry’s fight during the lead-up to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament in their fourth year. She had been relegated as go-between while the two had refused to talk to each other. She supposed that she should be grateful that Severus seemed disinclined to speak to either Lupin or her while in this foul mood. Her request of Severus to be allowed to speak again after Lupin’s interrogation had been met with a caustic comment on her inability to keep her “prattling mouth shut”, which she chose to interpret as agreement. Oh, how she had wanted to slap him.

Severus’ behavior irked her to no end. Though it had been difficult, she had made an effort to not show Lupin too much sympathy, simply to spare Severus’ feelings and to avoid the territorial behavior she had seen him display before. It didn’t seem to be helping the matter, though neither did Lupin’s deferential manner toward her and tendency to exclude Severus from any conversation that didn’t include insults. The fact was that Lupin didn’t have to help them, and she would have thought that Severus would have made an effort to be civil to the person who would assist them in finding the Starglass. At the moment, he was patently unwilling. She didn’t blame him for his attitude toward Lupin, considering their history, but it was making her morning trying indeed.

The fact that she was now going to spend what might constitute a significant amount of time with another person who would know her as a child was also making her nervous. She wracked her memories of Lupin and, for good measure, Snape, for any indication that they might have recognized her. She found none, but that meant nothing in a fluid, changeable timeline. She could only hope that twenty years would blur the contours of her face into relative obscurity in the minds of these men. That and guard the secret of her identity and origins to her dying breath.

Invisible and with charms to muffle the sounds of their footsteps, they followed Lupin at a discreet distance back to the pawnshop. He had explained (mostly to her, trying to ignore Severus as much as possible) that he had to pick up his next shipment to know where to deliver it; that was how it worked. Neither Portkey nor Apparition could access the site, and Runners chose their own method of transit. Usually, Lupin took the train, being able to blend seamlessly into both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. And, it was fairly inexpensive.

Lupin disappeared into the shop for no more than a quarter of an hour and came out bearing a plain, brown leather satchel. With a quick glance up and down the street, he walked briskly down the block and into the alley where he had suggested they meet. As he had described, the buildings framing it were taller than any others on the block, and it did not open onto the next street, providing them protection from prying eyes during their preparation and takeoff.

‘Shite,’ Hermione cursed silently. She fervently hoped that Lupin had a broomstick hidden about his person. Severus only had the two.

Severus and Hermione sidled into the alleyway behind him like specters, resembling nothing so much as columns of heat radiance. Hermione trailed behind by a couple of steps, alternately seething at Severus and lamenting the easy camaraderie that they had lost. Only hours ago, they had walked this street arm in arm. Now, the man exuded toxic radiation like nuclear fallout, and his inattention hurt.

Glaring through what she thought was Severus’ head when she wasn’t stepping around piles of rubbish, she followed both men around a sharp turn in the alley where it had become a tee intersection at a third building. A tall, wooden fence that had seen better days barred the left branch. Spray-painted graffiti coated the wood in intricate, tangling chaos and sections of the bottom slats had been broken. To the right, the branch down which Lupin led them, the alley stretched between the two buildings before ending at a heavy, iron door.

Out of sight of the street, Lupin turned and searched the empty air expectantly. Hermione released the Disillusionment spell and was instantly graced with a warm smile. There was a disgusted snort beside her as Severus reappeared, arms crossed defensively across his chest. Lupin’s eyes flicked between them, and Hermione could practically read the question in his eyes, though he was too polite to ask it out loud. Yet. In front of Severus.

‘Probably the latter.’ Hermione sighed and decided to study the alley, hoping to discourage the question that any adversary of the Potions master would ask sooner or later: what was she doing with Severus Snape? Besides the obvious, trying to retrieve stolen property, she still didn’t know what he had planned or her role in it. She had yet to glean that information from him and had allowed herself to be uncharacteristically distracted by other things. She sincerely hoped that whatever it was that he had planned for the Starglass would not impinge on her principles any more than her attraction to the man, let alone the entire exploit, had done already. She wondered if he’d noticed her... she hated to call it an infatuation, but crush seemed so juvenile. Regard. Her regard for him, as it stemmed from respect and admiration for his noble deeds, past and future, and from her genuine appreciation for his character. She was glad to have that sorted out.

Sneaking a glance at his rigid posture and consummate glower directed at their new traveling companion, she had decided that he probably hadn’t noticed. If he had, then he would be more inclined to gloat, even if he didn’t return the sentiment. And he probably didn’t. She sighed again. Just as well, really.

Still glaring suspiciously at Lupin, Severus withdrew his wand from his sleeve. Both Lupin and Hermione instinctively cringed, Lupin for a hex and Hermione to break up another fight, but the dark wizard simply tapped his own shoulder and spoke the incantation out loud to revert his clothes back to their original form. She couldn’t help but stare a moment, indulging in a gander at the grandly dressed wizard in silver silks and black velvet, even if his hair was mussed and oily. He did cut an impressive figure. She followed suit, transfiguring her Muggle slacks, blouse and jacket into the blue robes she had worn to Malfoy Manor. When she was finished, Severus pressed a broom, once again full-sized, into her hands.

He looked disdainfully down his nose at Lupin, which was a feat since both men were approximately of the same height. “Well?” he drawled, and Hermione wanted to groan.

Lupin did not have a broom, which he confirmed with his next sentence.

“I assumed you had a spare since you were the one who insisted on flying.” An embarrassed flush was beginning to stain the werewolf’s cheeks.

“I do not make it a habit to carry extra brooms on the off-chance that miscreant freeloaders might need a ride.”

“Then why the bloody hell did you demand that we fly?” Lupin asked, exasperated and mortified, which Hermione suspected was Severus’ plan all along.

“It’s fine, Severus. He can share my broom,” Hermione interrupted before Severus could lash him again with his barbed tongue.

He rounded on her, and for a brief instant, he was all terrifying Potions master with suspicious, black eyes and a week of detentions backing up behind his teeth. Then, he drew himself up, fixing her with a shrewd, calculating eye. “Eager to sit behind him? Or, perhaps, in front?”

“What? No!” Hermione denied what he had been implying more than the words themselves.

Severus’ smile did not reach his eyes, which glinted darkly as he glanced at the brooding werewolf. “Of course not. Who would?”

“Severus!” Hermione gasped, appalled at the purposefully brutal words. ‘What is he playing at?’ Hermione thought frantically, wondering how to salvage this situation. With Severus at his most defensive, and therefore cruel, and the ghost of years of adolescent torment biting at the pair’s heels, Hermione wasn’t sure that they would make it to their destination without serious bloodshed. Their track record so far this morning hadn’t been what one would call stellar.

“Better an unwilling beast than a willing Death Eater,” Lupin said quietly, glancing between her and his opponent.

Severus didn’t look pleased to be outed. His face stilled and paled, eyes narrowing to slits hidden by long, black lashes. The knuckles of his wand hand whitened, and the air around his body became almost stifling with static electricity.

Of course, Hermione had already known, but Severus didn’t know she’d known, and she hadn’t felt the need to share. It was his own business, and he’d more than made up for it during his years of spying and sacrifice for the Order of the Phoenix. That didn’t mean she didn’t have a question or thirty about his motives, but she hadn’t really wanted to ask. She wasn’t sure that she’d like the answers. Neither did she appreciate Lupin’s inclination to continue the argument by pulling Severus’ skeletons from the closet, though she supposed he was owed a dig or two. And Lupin did have a point.

Deciding that the best way to deal with the five-ton elephant parading through the conversation in a silver mask and black robes was to pretend it didn’t exist, she said reasonably, “There are two brooms and three people.” Both men flinched and looked at her with varying degrees of incredulity. She fought against the wholly inappropriate grin that tried to claim her mouth. If these men thought that they could turn her against the other by airing each other’s dirty laundry, then they had another thing coming. Not that she doubted they’d stop trying. “Two of us will have to share.”

“I don’t mind sharing a broom with you,” Lupin said politely, but his implication was clear that he would mind sharing with Severus.

Severus’ outburst was anything but polite. “That cur will not share your bloody broom! He can ride it himself!”

“Severus—”

“You will ride with me.”

“Alright,” she agreed amicably in the face of his fury. It had the effect of a bucket of water on a campfire, dousing his anger and leaving him impotent. Oh, damn, she would have to think that kind of word. And blush about it.

At least it stopped the argument cold, and without further ado, she handed her broomstick to Lupin, who seemed to have contracted the sulks from Severus. With a bit of fussing with her robes to make sure they kept her legs covered and an idle thought that going commando might solve the issue with her underwear, she was ready to mount behind Severus. Placing steadying hands on his shoulders and trying not to remember how much she liked their breadth, she settled herself against his back and wished that broomsticks had passenger handles like Muggle motorcycles. As it was, she grasped handfuls of his cloak and robes at his sides.

The abrupt launch and acceleration was much swifter than Hermione would have preferred, and she didn’t blame herself for relinquishing her hold on his robes to wrap her arms around his chest and lock her hands together. The fact that he was keeping her warm, solving one of her main complaints about broom travel, and that his unique brand of male muskiness was rapidly becoming her favorite scent, made the ride more pleasant than any other she could remember, even if they were traveling at a speed that she wouldn’t normally have attempted by herself.

She wondered what it said about her relationship with Ron that she could be so easily and thoroughly distracted by another man. She really didn’t want to think about that, but found that it was the only thought now circling her mind.

For his part, Severus also had a number of things going through his head that he didn’t want to think about. He could only assume that he was the worst kind of masochist for placing Heidi behind him. Her thighs cradled his hips and legs; her breasts pressed against his back; her breath tickled the fine hairs at the back of his neck. It was torment knowing that though he was in danger of melting on the inside due to her sheer proximity, he would in no way be able to act on his instincts and that he had put himself in this position in the first place. One thing was for certain: if she were going to ride double on a broomstick, it would be with him, no matter how sweetly miserable it made him.

This flight was much shorter than the previous one, lasting no more than an hour and a half. Decelerating to circle high above a small village, Lupin nodded purposefully at it, then pointed to a dense copse of trees demarcating its border. A thin, shining ribbon of water arched gently on the other side of the village, and Severus could just make out an archaic stone bridge connecting what appeared to be the main street of the village to the lane leading away through neatly squared pastures. Heidi was humming her appreciation against his back, tempting him to think of strolls they might have taken through those pastures and moments stolen at the apex of that bridge, if only they had been different people. Not that he particularly liked nature; it was better pickled and jarred or finely shredded and added to potions, but Heidi seemed to like it well enough. He might brave a few bug bites and rocks in his shoes if there were something in it for him.

And that was one of the many problems, wasn’t it? He was inherently selfish and self-serving (and Dumbledore didn’t hesitate to remind him of that), whereas she, while bossy, was altruistic and forgiving. The Death Eaters would have never been able to recruit Heidi.

He could kill that blasted werewolf for mentioning that sordid morsel of his past. The berk knew that he had changed sides and spied for the Order of the Phoenix. He had paid for the mistake of joining the Dark Lord with more than blood and would never stop paying. It had been a cowardly, underhanded attempt to turn Heidi against him and entirely different from him pointing out Lupin’s condition. For one, Lupin was still a werewolf, whereas he was no longer a loyal Death Eater. Furthermore, he was looking out for Heidi’s safety. She had to know her enemy.

Shockingly enough, Heidi had barely batted an eye at Lupin’s misleading revelation. She… Lily had turned him away before he had even taken the Mark. He was to blame, of course. He had insulted her and had thrown her aid back in her face. He hadn’t meant it and had tried to apologize later, but she would have none of it. But Heidi… Heidi had forgiven him for worse offenses than an insult. She also publicly showed her preference for his company over the werewolf’s; it was slight, but he had noticed. Lily had always doted on that creature. Heidi’s loyalty stirred in him a quiet longing for something he couldn’t quite name.

It was as if him being a Death Eater didn’t bother her, which was highly improbable given her good nature, or that she already knew that he was reformed, which was nigh on impossible. His had been a closed, secret trial, and his status as a spy was dearly guarded outside the Order. Due to his reputation for proficiency in the Dark Arts and some of the company he kept, many people suspected his involvement with the Dark Lord, but the people who knew for sure were all known to him and did not include a Heidi Greenglass.

‘Who is she?’ he thought, suddenly angry. ‘How can she know?’ She had shown him more trust than any other human, except with this. Did she have a secret more terrifying than his? It seemed impossible; she wasn’t the sort of person to have a Dark Secret. Shifting against his back, she silently sighed, warming the tip of his ear with her breath. He clenched his teeth against the delicate sensation, biting back demands that she confide in him. He would keep her secrets! Nothing she could say could repulse him!

Lupin interrupted his black mood, tarnishing it further by angling his broom to fly close to them, gesturing that they both stop and hover.

Directing his words to Heidi and making every attempt to ignore him, he said, “I’m going to go straight to the warehouse. Follow me, but make sure you aren’t seen.”

Severus felt Heidi nod against his back, and he could picture her solemn look of agreement. It irritated him that neither of them was thinking this through. Heidi, at least, was smarter than that. “Have you given thought to the wards that will surely be triggered by two unknown parties breaching their barriers, or were you simply going to beat down the door like an… animal?” he rolled the last word around his mouth, coating it with disgust.

Lupin paled, and Severus sneered, “So like a Gryffindor to rush in headfirst with no plan of attack or defense.” Heidi squeezed him around the middle, and he wondered if it was meant to discourage him.

Flushing, Lupin snapped, “It would take a Slytherin Death—”

“Do you suppose,” Heidi spoke from behind him, her voice hard and impatient, “that we could leave the house rivalries at school where they belong and get on with this like grown-up witches and wizards?” Both wizards squirmed a bit and remained silent, which seemed to be the right answer. “Thank you. What do you suggest, Severus?”

He shot the werewolf a smug look and said, “You and I will Disillusion, land in the trees by the lane and wait out of sight. Lupin,” he spat the name as if he had just sucked a fly into his mouth, “will drop off his shipment or do whatever Gophers do and either retrieve our item or information as to its whereabouts. When we see him leave, we’ll follow for a short distance until it is no longer dangerous to reconvene.” It was a safe (for him and Heidi), simple plan that required little or no effort on his part. It would have been perfect, if the blasted werewolf hadn’t been inclined to a selective conscience.

“I can’t steal from my employer!”

“And yet you work for thieves.”

“Your employer has something that was stolen from us!” Heidi protested, giving him a squeeze that he was now sure was meant to be chastising.

Lupin gave her a forlorn look, reminiscent of a puppy that had just been caught chewing on a lady’s favorite pair of pumps. Unfortunately for Lupin, Severus thought with satisfaction, Heidi was a cat person.

“We didn’t come all this way to just stare at the building and hope it would eject our phial,” Heidi said, softening the harshness of her words with what must have been a (thoroughly unnecessary, if one asked Severus) smile, because the werewolf perked up a bit. “I understand; really, I do. If there is any… retrieving… required, then I’ll be the one to do it. However,” she said, squeezing Severus as he drew a breath to protest (which had only been an experiment to see if she would squeeze him), “we still need to know if it is here, or has been moved to another location.”

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Though Hermione had to admit that sending Lupin off on his own and hiding in the woods was probably the wisest thing to do in terms of reacquiring the Starglass, it was not the most comfortable. Under the canopy of long, green needles and whip-like branches, the air was stuffy and strongly scented with pine and earthy decay. There was very little undergrowth; only a few brave seedlings stretched their stalks through the thick bed of brown needles that covered the forest floor, and those that did had the wan look of a plant kept in a darkened room. Rustling overhead announced the movement of small rodents and birds through the trees, but Hermione wasn’t able to catch sight of them.

They hadn’t known how long Lupin would take, so they had claimed a decomposing log as their seat. It must have lain on the forest floor for years, insects and weather taking turns wearing the bark away until the inner wood, softened and splintering, was revealed. Not wanting to attract attention with blatant uses of magic, they had left it a log instead of Transfiguring it into something more comfortable.

After several months of camping during what should have been her seventh year at Hogwarts, Hermione had vowed to not spend a significant amount of time in a forest until her fiftieth birthday. She wouldn’t sleep on a bed that was any smaller than a double if she were alone or a queen if she had company. No less than four pillows were required: two for her head (not stacked, but laid side by side so that she could roll around properly), one for between her knees and one just because. Picnics were right out, though she would eat in a garden provided there was a suitable patio table and chairs. She liked to take her morning constitutional through a park a few blocks from her flat, but she carefully kept to the tidy gravel paths and sat at the conveniently placed wrought iron benches instead of wandering onto the grass. It was a testament to her fascination with Severus that she had forgotten her aversion to forested areas long enough to find herself waiting in one.

She shifted restlessly, trying to relieve the growing discomfort from something hard and pointy digging into her bum. Rising slightly, she removed the object: a small, green pinecone riddled with ants. Clamping down on a girly squeal of disgust, she tossed the thing away and stood up, frantically smacking at the back of her robes. Frowning at the log, she gave it a thorough examination and decided that she would rather stand for a moment. Or find another cold sidewalk. And Severus’ warm shoulder.

‘Ugh, back on track, Hermione.’ She stared at the man for a long moment. He was sitting a little further down the log, giving the forest floor a comprehensive scowl. His expression was pinched and clouded, his eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed. There was no doubt that something was bothering him, and it likely had something to do with Lupin and his comments about him being a Death Eater. Or, it could just as likely be another fit of the sulks at which he seemed to be so adept. She wondered if Professor Snape had been this inclined to brood and if the deduction of house points had been his way of coping. Be that as it may, they were quite possibly very close to reacquiring the Starglass, and now seemed an opportune time to discuss what it was they were going to be doing with it.

“Severus,” she said quietly, waving away an insect that was buzzing persistently around her nose.

He jumped and glanced at her, plucking at the lace spilling out of his jacket sleeves. Right, he was thinking, then, and not sulking. Pinning his scowl on her, he said, “You already knew; don’t deny it.”

Taken aback, she stood up straight and gave him her full attention. “Come again?”

“I’ll know if you lie to me.”

He was eyeing her narrowly, almost daring her to look directly into those suspicious shards of obsidian. Slowly, he rose to his feet and closed the distance between them. As much as she trusted him to not purposefully enter her mind uninvited, Hermione was no fool. Harry had always said that he thought Snape could read his mind, and she had a suspicion that Severus could, indeed, read one’s thoughts without invoking Legilimency. He might not even realize what he was doing. Regardless, she had too many secrets to hide.

Now, he was trying to intimidate her, looming over her as if she were some recalcitrant student up to no good. It might have terrified her as a child, but it certainly didn’t have the same effect today. It struck her, suddenly, how young he was, though only a couple of years younger than she, and how miserably lonely the short number of years he had left would be.

It was that thought that helped her curb her temper. Unwilling to rise to his bait, she leaned slightly toward him and smiled, letting her eyes roam his face instead of sinking into those black pits of tar. The position required her to tilt her head at a sharper angle, but showed that he did not frighten or intimidate her. “Perhaps if you were to tell me what I’m not to deny knowing?”

It was a dangerous game she was playing; she felt it in the rapid beat of her heart and the tiny beads of sweat that prickled her forehead. His lips were tightly pressed together, and his jaw muscles moved under pale skin just beginning to show a shadow of a beard. He spoke again, entrancing her with the movements of his lips and the flash of crooked teeth, not yet stained the yellow that she remembered.

“Stop trying to distract me! You knew, and I want to know how!”

“Severus—”

“Who are you?” he hissed, inches from her face. It was difficult to remain fixed on his lips, he was so close. Reflexively, she raised her eyes to meet his. They pleaded with her, even though his words demanded, but he remained locked behind them, safely within his own mind. He was not intentionally prying into her mind, and his courtesy touched her. But she couldn’t tell him.

A discreet cough sounded to her right, and she glanced toward it, breaking out of the enchantment that he had woven around her. Lupin stood several feet away from them, the broom clutched tightly in a white-knuckled hand and his eyes hard as he stared at Severus.

“The phial was moved to a shop in Canterbury,” he said without preamble, still glaring. “I’ve been circling for several minutes, and you didn’t show up.” An unspoken accusation hung silently between them, and Hermione fidgeted with her hands. She startled when Severus abruptly stepped away from her.

“Canterbury. How fortunate for us that we have a native of Canterbury with us now,” he drawled, looking pointedly at Hermione with false expectancy. “Apparating will save us much travel time.”

Worrying her fingers and feeling a flush rise in her face, Hermione wanted to slink into the forest. Heidi Greenglass of Canterbury, she had called herself those weeks prior when she had first met a young Severus Snape. Her mother had always told her lies had an unpleasant way of coming back to haunt one.

She had never been to Canterbury.

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A/N: Can you smell the shit as it rockets toward the fan? Hermione can.