Tension in the Laboratory

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A silver weasel squirmed through the window, ran to the middle of the room, and sat on its haunches, sniffing the air. “Ministry close to falling,” Arthur Weasley’s voice came from the Patronus. “Meet at usual place.” And the silvery weasel dissolved to mist, then disappeared altogether.

Dumbledore came to his feet and opened the window. “We’ll have to take brooms. Except you, of course, Severus. This discussion will have to wait.” He pulled two brooms from behind his desk.

Hermione stole a glance at Snape and saw relief pass over his face. Dumbledore tossed her a broom, which she almost dropped from inattention.

“Miss Granger?” Dumbledore gestured toward the window sill.

Hermione shoved her broom through the opening. “Chameleo,” she heard Dumbledore say before she leaped on her broom.

At first, she dropped with sickening speed toward the stone flags far below. She pulled up hard on the broom, narrowly missed hitting a turret wall, and was gaining altitude when she saw Dumbledore ahead of her, his beard trailing after him, and Snape flying somewhat behind him, his cloak flapping. Leaning hard over the broom handle, she managed to close the distance between herself and the others.

Cold mist condensed to rain on her face. Her hands turned yellow, then blue, then purple with cold, clutching the broom handle. Drops of moisture whipped off her cheeks, nose, and chin. Patches of green and gold land passed beneath her. Above her, the bruised sky balefully shook down its tears of fury. Ahead of her, she saw the cryptic flapping of Snape’s cloak and Dumbledore’s flowing robes.

After several hours, during which Hermione became more and more convinced that her numb fingers would not hold her to her broom another minute, Dumbledore made an arcing motion with his arm. He and Snape plunged downward toward a large mass of silver and black buildings rising from the tapestry of green rectangles below. Hermione drew in a deep breath and pointed her broom straight downward. She dropped like a lead weight, and London rose up to meet her. Biting back a scream, she cast desperate eyes around her for a glimpse of Dumbledore or Snape. Nothing. Sky, clouds, birds were tumbling by in a jumble. She fell faster and faster still. The Thames was huge beneath her, a brown maw waiting to swallow her. But then black cloth snapped in her face and someone grabbed her broom and pulled up. The broom zigged, then zagged. Hermione saw a large clock face pass within a foot of her cheek.

“Slow down! Go higher!” Snape yelled in her ear.

She raised the broom handle and rose with what felt like lofty slowness above the turrets and towers of the skyscrapers below. Snape’s arm intruded into her vision, pointing below. Cautiously, she pointed her broom down at a safer angle and began a more leisurely descent onto Grimmauld Place.

She landed smoothly. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her inside the house. At once, Molly Weasley’s voice rang in her ears: “We were so worried!”

“Appareo,” Snape’s voice said.

Hermione realized that Snape was standing near her, not touching her, regarding Mrs. Weasley with what could only be described as a long-suffering air. As he was the closest person to Hermione, she could only guess that it was he who had pulled her through the doorway. Dumbledore stood a few feet away. The entry was filled with people, all looking anxious. Tonks, Hermione noted, stood close to Lupin, her head bowed, her hair nearly gray with only a tinge of violet at the spiky tips. Harry stood near Ron and Luna. Hermione supposed that Ginny, being her mother’s youngest, had been forced upstairs for probably the last time. Hermione flicked a glance upward and saw Ginny’s mutinous face above the banister on the landing below. Clearly, the status quo would not hold much longer.

“It’s all right, Molly,” Dumbledore was saying, “everyone is here now.”

“I hope you disguised yourselves. Coming on brooms! Disapparating would have worked better.”

“Molly—" Mr. Weasley began.

“We can’t Apparate from Hogwarts, Molly, you know that,” Dumbledore said patiently. “Brooms were the safest way. We used the Chameleo spell.”

“Well, at least there’s that—"

“Let’s get down to business,” Dumbledore said, leading them into the kitchen, where everyone filed around the huge oaken table. A fire crackled on the far end of the room, throwing light but inadequate heat. “Arthur, what’s happening at the Ministry?”

All eyes turned to Mr. Weasley, whose face was pale and drawn.

“Everyone must swear an oath of allegiance to Scrimgeour,” Mr. Weasley said. “Not to the Ministry, mind you. We all had to take that when we joined. But now he wants an oath on the strongest possible magical terms that we’ll be loyal to him and do what he thinks best. Some of us have managed to delay up to now, but the moment is coming to a head.”

Shock and muttering went through the listeners.

“There’s more,” Mr. Weasley said. “Tell them, Severus.”

Hermione saw Harry give Snape a look of loathing, which, she noted, Snape returned with interest. Desperately, she threw Harry a warning look, but he ignored her.

“Scrimgeour’s been Imperiused,” Snape said.

“What?!” Kingsley Shacklebolt exclaimed.

“You heard me.”

“How do you know?” Kingsley objected. “There’s no real way to tell.”

“You’ve taken that oath, haven’t you?” Snape said. When Kingsley didn’t answer at once, Snape continued, “I know because the Dark Lord told me and gave a demonstration.” No one dared ask what that might have entailed. “The time is getting near. The Ministry will fall soon. What is our plan?”

“Take out Scrimgeour,” Harry said promptly.

Snape glared at him, but Dumbledore said, “I don’t see that we have a choice. We can’t have the whole Ministry staff forced to swear allegiance to Lord Voldemort’s tool. We shall have to incapacitate Rufus semi-permanently.” He unrolled a large map on the table. “Let’s talk about ways and means.”

Some time later, as the fretful sun began to set behind the billowing, misting clouds and the room sank into a cheerless darkness, the meeting broke up.

“I’ll get some supper going,” Mrs. Weasley said.

Snape turned toward the doorway, and Hermione knew what would come next. Thinking quickly, she said, “Professor Snape, I need to discuss a classroom matter with you before you go.”

“Can’t this wait, Miss Granger?” Snape said, clearly keen to leave before the meal got underway.

“It can’t,” Hermione said in her best staccato tones.

With a curl of his lip, Snape gave a little half-bow to Mrs. Weasley and followed Hermione up the stairway, ignoring the framed heads of Black family house elves. As they rounded the balustrade, Hermione heard Tonks’ voice say from one of the rooms above, “Please, Remus, you know it doesn’t matter to me!” Then a door shut quietly but firmly, and Lupin’s voice said something back in a low, urgent tone.

Hermione led Snape to one of the ancient bedrooms on the second floor not far from Tonks and Lupin.

“What is it, then?” Snape said, sounding his most put-upon.

Hermione ignored that. “I want to stay here and have supper with everyone.”

“So, do.”

“I want you to stay, too.”

Snape winced. “Please. Not that.”

“What is so terrible about sharing a meal with everyone?”

“And have to see Potter at table? It’ll put me off my appetite.”

“That can’t be your excuse. You’ve never eaten with the Order even before Harry was a member.”

“Believe me, they don’t want me about. They suffer my presence.”

“How can you say that?”

An idea seemed to occur to Snape. “I’ll stay on one condition.”

“We can’t discuss—-that—-here,” Hermione said warily.

“Oh, I think we can,” Snape said, sounding almost merry. “I made a proposal. You haven’t responded.”

“You don’t want to really marry me,” Hermione countered. “It’s because of something else. You’ve held some things back.”

Snape rocked back on his heels for a second. “I’ll make it a different condition, then,” he said. “I’ll stay and, er, break bread with my oh-so-good friends here if you’ll come back to my rooms tonight.”

Panic tore through Hermione’s veins. “I can’t do that! There’s classes tomorrow! Anyone would be able to see me in the corridors leaving your rooms!”

“Chameleo,” Snape reminded her softly, showing his teeth. Nervously, Hermione made a mental note to tell him about her father, the dentist.

Then she squirmed inwardly. A repeat of this morning’s embarrassing performance? She had done and said things that made her want to sink into the floor. He must have laughed to himself afterward! “It can’t have been much fun for you,” she muttered to some point on the rotting floorboards, feeling heat and sweatiness rise from her neck to her hairline. “You saw I have no experience. You must have laughed about it afterward.”

“I didn’t laugh. I didn’t expect experience, so I wasn’t disappointed.”

“How can this be something you want to repeat then? You’re lonely?” He made a scoffing noise, but she didn’t look up. “You want to use me?”

He lowered his voice to the point where she had to lean close to hear him. “I made you come, didn’t I?” Her blush intensified, in spite of the chill in the room. "More than once, if I remember correctly."

“Don’t—"

“I’d like to see your face when I make you come again.”

Heat rose within her. “Please stop—"

“I liked it. I want more.”

“How could you have? How could that be fun for you? You’ve much more experience.”

“It gives me pleasure to see you. That way.”

She grasped for solid understanding. “You don’t really like me—"

“I like you very well.”

“You want to use me.”

“I’ll make certain it’s mutual.”

“This is killing me,” she said faintly.

“Hermione, you’ve watched me with the Order for years now. Have I ever missed a sign or failed to pick up a signal? Have I ever let the Order down in any way? Has anything taken place that I haven’t turned to the Order’s advantage without letting the Dark Lord know?”

She shook her head.

“If it’s any comfort to you, I can serve you the same way. If you let me.”

What could this mean? Serve her? Did he mean just in the bedroom or out of it, too? And how far could she trust him?

Before she could mull things over further, he said crisply, “So do we have an agreement or not?”

“Is this just for tonight?”

“We’ll start with that.”

Start! So he did want more. She almost couldn’t believe it. Cautious hope stirred inside her. “Then you’ll come back downstairs?”

“Do we have an understanding, then?”

“Y-yes.”

He nodded once, curtly, and opened the door. Tonks and Lupin's door was still shut. Noises of knives chopping and something bubbling rose from the staircase. Snape descended ahead of her.

“Ah, Molly,” Hermione heard him say from the kitchen just before she entered it herself, in time to see Mrs. Weasley turn from her cauldron in consternation. “Is there enough for one more? It’s rather late, and Miss Granger’s little classroom difficulty has delayed me to the point that having supper here would be an attractive possibility.”

Mrs. Weasley turned five shades of red. “Oh, of course, Severus. There’s always room for one more.”

From the corner of her eye, Hermione caught sight of Harry in the parlor pausing in mid-speech and looking as if he had just learned he would have to retake all seven years of Potions.

“Very kind of you, Molly,” Snape said silkily and gave Harry a smile that would have frightened a goblin.