Augury & Ardor

Author's Notes: Regarding names I’ve chosen in this chapter: Immundus is the Latin word for “foul or impure” and nothus means “of a mixed breed, mongrel”. Amarum is Latin for “bitter, tart and foul-smelling”. ;)

Let me express gratitude to those who take the time to review after each chapter. I know how easy it is to read, and move on without commenting - I’ve done it. It means a lot when you stop and take the time to type out your thoughts for me to read. I love them all, from the short, but sweet “I loved this!” to the long, chatty reviews that discuss the plot and/or characters. Some of your are hilarious!

I hope you enjoy this chapter!
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After breakfast, Hermione sat idly stirring a spoon through the shallow bowl of porridge. Her goodbyes with Harry and Ron had been difficult. A part of her hated to see them go, but another part was just as impatient to have them gone. Finding the last Horcrux was incredibly important to winning the battle, but finding it also brought the battle, and possible tragedies, that much closer. To add to her troubles, she kept worrying over her goodbye with Ron.


He hadn’t said or done anything alarming, really. He’d hugged her and pressed a kiss to her cheek just as Harry had, but his air had been different - almost possessive. She hoped she’d imagined it.


“Ba!” Sepharus cried, slapping both hands down on the table. At Hermione’s startled look, he giggled and slapped again. Drying porridge not only covered his hands and face, but his hair as well.


“Bah is right,” Hermione agreed, shaking her head. “Look what happens when I let my attention stray. You’re a mess!”


“Ba, ba, babababa, BA!” Sepharus cried again, smearing porridge across the table. He looked up to her and grinned with pride, showing off his two new bottom teeth.


Dodging Sepharus’ grasp, Hermione used her wand to cast a Scouring Charm on both him and the table. She was just removing the limited Impediment Jinx she’d used to keep him from falling out of his chair when Dumbledore appeared. “Oh, good, you’re finished.”


“Daba!” Sepharus crowed, lunging toward the elderly wizard. Hermione caught him before he landed on his head and handed him over to Dumbledore.

“Mind your beard,” she warned just as Sepharus wrapped both his hands in the long white mane and tugged with delight.


“Are you ready to go?” Dumbledore asked, as though they had agreed upon some plans.


“Go? Go where?” she asked.


“Why, to Hogwarts,” he replied.


“But…I thought you couldn’t go out,” she said.


“Didn’t I tell you last night that I had Professor McGonagall’s express permission?” He winked at her dumbfounded look. “All I need do is disguise myself a bit…” He muttered something and swept his free arm from the top of his head toward his feet.


Sepharus looked up from his suddenly empty hands to Dumbledore’s face and studied him for a moment before turning toward his mother. He held out his arms to her, clearly unhappy with the change the elderly wizard had wrought. Hermione took the baby, all the while staring at the young, auburn-haired wizard in front of her. He looked to be about seventeen.


“Ah, to be young again,” Dumbledore laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. “If only the spell made me feel young.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we go?”


“Wait,” Hermione said, holding up a hand to indicate she was overwhelmed. "Why are we going to Hogwarts again?”


“Well,” the Headmaster began, reaching up to touch a beard that was no longer there. He looked nonplussed for a moment before grinning ruefully and folding his hands. “I had planned on using a small Pensieve here, but Professor McGonagall brought it to my attention, just before dawn, that you’re to meet with a legal team from the Ministry of Magic at the school this morning. Since we’ll be there anyway, I thought we could use the larger Pensieve in my…er...Minerva’s office.”


“Officials from the Ministry of Magic? But why?”


“I understand they want to speak to you about your testimony at trial,” Professor Dumbledore explained. “Professor McGonagall has led them to believe you’re living at the school which is why we must go there. If you’re ready, we’ll Apparate outside the gates, where Hagrid will meet us.”


“Is it safe for Sepharus to Disapparate?” Hermione asked.


“He won’t feel a thing at his age,” Dumbledore assured her. He held out his arm. “Come, we’ll all go together.”


No sooner had she taken his arm that the familiar squeezing feeling of Disapparation seized her. Sepharus tugged on her nose the whole time they traveled, proving the Headmaster’s assertion correct that her son wasn’t experiencing any unpleasantness from the spell. No sooner had she gulped a breath of air at their arrival, a booming voice caught her attention.


“’Ermione!” Hagrid exclaimed, causing Sepharus to start and turn in her arms. Hugging her son closer to her body, she let go of Dumbledore’s arm and ran the few yards separating her and the half-giant. “Hagrid!”


Sepharus leaned back and gaped as the towering, hairy man’s head sailed down to their level. He squirmed in his mother’s arms as the two embraced and let out a cry of indignation at being denied a thorough study of the huge man.


“Yeh’ve grown up so much! Las’ time I saw yeh, yeh were a little girl goin’ ’ome ter visit yer parents,” Hagrid choked out as they broke apart. He pulled a handkerchief the size of a bath towel from his pocket and dabbed his eyes. “And, now, look at yeh – a grown woman wi’ a young ‘un.”


“Hagrid, I’d like you to meet Sepharus,” Hermione said, smiling down at her son, who was positively goggling at Hagrid.


“Well, now.” Hagrid beamed, sopping his eyes again. “Ain’t he a strappin’ fella?” He lifted a hand as large as a dustbin lid and gently poked a finger into Sepharus’ belly. “I’ll bet yeh’d fancy a ride on Fang, wouldn’t yeh?”


Sepharus’ face slowly broke into a glowing grin and he grasped Hagrid’s finger between both his hands, shaking it with enthusiasm.


“I’m afraid that will have to wait until later,” Professor Dumbledore interjected gently. “Hermione, Ginny Weasley has arranged her schedule to allow her to care for Sepharus while you meet with the Ministry. If you walk up to the school now, she’ll just be finishing breakfast in the Great Hall.”


“I’ll see you later,” Hermione promised Hagrid at the crestfallen look on the gamekeeper’s face. Sepharus seemed just as upset to lose his big friend and let out a wail when Hagrid stood and stepped back.


The trek up to the castle was pleasant. Although it was only early May, it was a warm, agreeable morning. Dew still clung to the grass and the air was scented with damp earth and new growth. Even the Whomping Willow looked picturesque with its limbs clothed in spring green.


Just before she reached the castle, Hermione came upon a group of students who had apparently finished breakfast early to come outside before classes began and enjoy the fine day. When they noticed her, their conversation stopped and they stared with unabashed interest at her and Sepharus. Then, the eyes of one of the girls in the group widened. She leaned in to another girl and quickly whispered something before breaking away and hurrying up to the castle doors.


By the time she’d entered the school, the Great Hall was emptying out and a buzz of voices filled the Entrance Hall. Playing harmony to the buzz of normal conversation, however, was a sibilant whispering that soon grew in volume as it took precedence. Suddenly, all eyes seemed to be on her and the Hall was full of muttered, fractured phrases. Hermione Granger…. …kidnapped…. …Professor Snape…. …read that he’d raped…. …heard she was pregnant, but…. …his baby….


“If I catch any Gryffindors standing about gaping instead of getting to class, it’ll be detention!” A sharp, authoritative voice rang through the Hall and silenced the whispering.


Hermione smiled in gratitude as Ginny Weasley appeared, cutting through the crowd with an irritated look on her face. When she met Hermione’s gaze, she lost her Head Girl expression and smiled in welcome. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you! Merlin’s socks! Look at how big Sepharus has grown! Come here to Aunt Ginny, you handsome boy!”


Sepharus let out a squeal that echoed to the heights of the vaulted ceiling and gladly went to his godmother. After blowing raspberries on the baby’s cheek, Ginny shot Hermione a level look. “I hear you’re meeting with Ministry officials today.”


“I find out mere minutes before I arrive and you already know,” Hermione replied, her tone rueful. “Maybe I should be living here instead of at the Order.” Her smile faded as a few stragglers leaving the hall looked back at them in open curiosity. She sighed as she watched Sepharus wind Ginny’s red hair in his chubby fists. “Does everyone assume he’s guilty?”


“They think he murdered Professor Dumbledore,” she murmured under her breath. “Under different circumstances, there might have been some who argued his innocence, but he never went out of his way to make himself popular with the student body, now did he?” Ginny pointed out evenly. When Hermione merely frowned, Ginny reached out and grasped her hand to give it a quick squeeze. “That doesn’t matter, though, does it? He’s not guilty and you’re going to let them know that. Come on, I’ll walk with you to the meeting.”


They passed a few straggling students rushing to class as they traveled the familiar corridors. When Hermione made to turn and ascend a marble staircase, Ginny stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Professor Vector is Deputy Headmistress, now. She’s got Professor McGonagall’s old office. Your meeting is in the tower – in the Headmistress’ office.”


Hermione nodded. Her smile started out rueful, but turned sad as she said, “It’s so odd… Walking up here, it felt as if I’d hardly been gone. The grounds, the castle…everything is just the same. It was almost as if I’d never left and I could walk up to Gryffindor Tower and find my things exactly as I’d left them. Yet…so much has changed, hasn’t it? I don’t belong here anymore.” She drew in a deep breath before releasing it on a heavy sigh. “I don’t belong anywhere anymore.”


“Don’t say that,” Ginny replied with a frown. Shifting Sepharus to her other hip, she laid a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Wherever your friends are, you belong, and you’ve got plenty of friends here at Hogwarts. And speaking of friends, I promised Neville I’d bring you ‘round to the greenhouse after the meeting if you had time.”


“Oh, yes. He’s apprenticing with Professor Sprout, isn’t he?” Hermione replied.


Ginny’s frown deepened at the look of melancholy settling over Hermione’s face. She could sympathize with how disconcerting returning to Hogwarts would be for her friend. It had been ten months – nearly a year – that she’d been held captive. Another six months spent as a virtual captive at Grimmauld Place had to have left her feeling disconnected and disoriented.


Life had plunged on without Hermione, and now, she was having to come to terms with how much time she’d lost. It was upsetting enough without the conjecture, the gossip and the whispered insinuations. To have to suffer details of her relationship with Snape and disparaging comments about their son in the dailies had to be unbearable.


“Do you know,” Ginny remarked, shifting Sepharus’ weight to her other hip as they ascended the staircase to the Headmistress’ office, “your staying here really isn’t such a bad idea. Being locked up at Grimmauld Place by yourself most of the time can’t be good for you. At least here you’d have company.”


“I’d have people staring and gossiping behind their hands,” Hermione replied grimly, “which is worse than being alone.”


“Tartan plaid,” Ginny intoned as they reached the gargoyle outside the Headmistress’ office. To Sepharus’ amusement, the statue leapt aside. Both Ginny and Hermione stepped onto the spiral staircase leading to the office above.


“You ought to talk to Professor McGonagall about an apprenticeship yourself,” Ginny suggested as the stone stairs began to magically wind them upward. “With your grades, you could work with Professor Vector, Professor Slughorn or even Professor McGonagall herself!”


“Slughorn is still teaching Potions?” Hermione scoffed, her eyes flashing to meet Ginny’s.


“Well, yes,” Ginny replied, realizing she’d have been better off keeping her mouth shut. “Someone had to teach the class and he really wasn’t that bad, was he?”


“He’s more concerned with that ridiculous ‘Slug Club’ than he is with teaching,” Hermione scorned. “Connections and prestige are more important to him than imparting knowledge.”


“So, apprentice to him,” Ginny suggested, “and make sure the students are receiving a quality education.”


Hermione’s voice was as cool as a winter’s morning. “Why should I bother?” The stone steps stopped turning at the portal to the Headmistress’ office and Hermione stepped forward. She landed the griffin-shaped knocker two solid hits against the oak door before stepping back. As the sound echoed around them, she fixed Ginny with a stubborn gaze. “Severus will have the position back shortly.”


Ginny grimaced as Sepharus gave a particularly hearty pull on her hair, but managed to shoot Hermione a grin. “I’m on your side, you know,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at her friend. “Save your glowers and growls for the barrister.”


Hermione’s rigid posture deflated a bit, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “I’m sorry. It’s just not fair, is all.”


“So much of what has happened these past few years hasn’t been,” Ginny agreed, her smile softening as she gazed at her friend, “but we’ll keep on fighting to put it right, won’t we?”


They shared one last, affectionate smile, before Hermione obeyed the summons to “Enter” and pushed open the large door to step into the Headmistress’ office.


Very few changes had been made to the office since Professor McGonagall had taken up the post of Headmistress. The portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses still adorned the walls, the subjects dozing in their frames. Curious objects whirled and spun on nearby tables, some sending small puffs of smoke into the air. The most startling difference to the room was the empty spot where Fawkes' perch had rest.


“Ah, Hermione,” Professor McGonagall said in greeting. “Come in and sit down, my girl.”


Hermione nodded a greeting to the Headmistress before allowing her gaze to wander to the other occupants of the room. A blonde witch and an older wizard with gray, close-cropped hair rose and eyed her with as much curiosity as she did them. Then, the witch gave her a plastic smile and held out her hand. “Good morning, Ms. Granger; I’m Amarum Blade, court-appointed solicitor for the Wizengamot, and this is my esteemed colleague, Immundo Nothus. Thank you for meeting with us.”


“Of course,” Hermione said, briefly taking the witch’s outstretched fingers before turning and nodding to the wizard. Once she’d acknowledged them, she turned to the Headmistress. “Good morning, Professor McGonagall; I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”


“Not at all,” McGonagall said, gesturing for Hermione to sit. Thankfully, the vacant chair was set apart from the two visitors; Hermione had felt an instant dislike for them.


Once she was seated, Immundo Nothus turned to her with a smile. Hermione imagined the barrister meant for the smile to seem fatherly, but to her it looked patronizing. “Ms. Granger, we sympathize with what you’ve had to endure over the past months and we certainly don’t wish to compound your suffering by making you relive it, but we did want to meet with you before the trial commences…” The barrister glanced up and met Professor McGonagall’s cool, disapproving gaze, before clearing his throat and continuing. “Briefly, of course.”


He reached out and his assistant handed him a small stack of parchment. Shuffling through them, he stopped and read a few lines. “I understand there was… an issue from your…encounter with the defendant.” At this, he looked up and studied Hermione’s face.


“Yes,” Hermione managed to choke out. Her face felt like it was on fire. Issue? How dare this condescending ass refer to my son as issue! As if he was something inhuman?


Immundo Nothus nodded gravely and looked back at his notes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Granger; I realize discussing these disturbing events must be very difficult for you. However, we need to clarify a few points as well as give you some understanding of what to expect when you’re called to the stand.” At Hermione’s terse nod, he looked back down at his notes. “The Defense has indicated their client’s intent to give you both an immediate annulment as well as full guardianship rights to the child.” The barrister looked up, again, surprise evident in his features. “You’re raising the child?”


“Yes.” Hermione could hardly speak, she was so angry.


“A very gracious act,” Nothus began, only to lean in to listen to something his assistant whispered to him. With a nod, he looked back over at Hermione in consideration. “Of course, the child is innocent, despite the character of the sire…”


Hermione didn’t speak or even nod. With her hands clenched painfully in her lap, she merely held the barrister’s gaze. He studied her another few seconds before glancing back down at his notes. “The charges of murder and espionage aren’t pertinent to your testimony,” he murmured almost to himself, before looking back up at her with a penetrating, hopeful gaze, “unless, of course, he discussed these subjects with you?”


“No.”


“Pity,” he sighed. After another minute of perusing the parchment, he looked up and gave another of his patently false fatherly smiles. “Don’t worry, Ms. Granger; those charges aside, we’d have made certain Severus Snape not only never steps foot in another classroom, but that he spends the rest of his life in Azkaban. Kidnap and rape are damning enough. You needn’t fear that monster will ever be a danger to you or any other student again.”


Angry tears glittered in Hermione’s eyes when she lifted them from her lap. She hardly heard what the barrister said after that; his voice was like the annoying drone of an insect beneath the furious pounding in her ears. A brief glance over at Professor McGonagall confirmed Hermione’s suspicions. The Headmistress was just as angry, but her expression so stoic it reminded Hermione to keep her temper. Voicing her outrage wouldn’t help Severus. Knowing what the prosecution had planned would help. Having them think she was on their side couldn’t hurt. All her concentration from that point on was focused on remaining seated and quiet. She accomplished this by happily imagining choking Immundo Nothus until he lost his patently false smile.


When she was asked a question, the answers she gave were meager to the point of being stingy. Rather than annoy the arrogant pair, they seemed entirely complacent. Both were so convinced of Hermione’s compliance, they mistook her stony silences for an inability to recount her harrowing experience. For the most part, they seemed satisfied with outlining their case against Severus, although the assistant barrister felt compelled, every so often, to make a particularly disparaging comment about his character.


When the pair finally took their leave, Immundo paused in the doorway and gave Hermione one more toothy and wholly insincere smile. “Just remember, Ms. Granger, you needn’t feel you have to be brave on the stand. When I question you – when I inevitably bring up some difficult memories – if you should cry, no one would blame you. You have the sympathy of the wizarding world, after all.”


It took every shred of self-control she had to keep from picking up a paperweight from McGonagall’s desk and throwing it at the man’s head. Instead, she waited until the door to the Headmistress’ office closed before releasing some of her pent up rage in pacing and muttering.


“I should cry if I need to,” she ground out before releasing an inarticulate growl of disgust. “He’d like that, wouldn’t he – for me to weep or faint and cause a huge stir. That man is a frustrated actor! He wants a huge sensation. He’d like his face all over the papers as the man who put Severus Snape in Azkaban.”


While Professor McGonagall conjured a tea set, Hermione continued to pace. “Issue! Did you hear how he talked about Sepharus?” She stopped and shook her head, eyes wide with outrage. “No! Not about him, around him, as if he were a thing instead of a child – and a thoroughly disagreeable thing, too. As if my choosing to raise him was saintly. Oh! I’d have liked to cast an Engorgement Charm on his head so it matched his ego.”


“Yes, dear, but then he’d never have fit through the door,” Professor McGonagall replied wryly, “and I was never happier to see the back of two people.”


“I don’t know which was worse, him and his patronizing attitude or her and her constant nasty interjections about Severus’ character.”


Professor McGonagall walked to the portrait of Professor Dumbledore and tapped the frame. “Albus, in case you weren’t listening, they’ve left. You can come up now.”


The sleeping visage of the elderly wizard opened his eyes, winked at Hermione, and smiled. “I was just saying goodbye to Hagrid. I’ll be there momentarily.” With that, the portrait of Dumbledore closed its eyes and seemed to immediately fall back to sleep.


“How…?”


“Unlike the other portraits, this one is merely an image of Professor Dumbledore, charmed to act as a communication device,” McGonagall explained, before moving back to sit behind her desk. “As for Amarum Blade, it came as no surprise to me when she began denigrating Severus. She was a classmate of his – a Slytherin, as well – but as lazy as he was diligent in her studies. He caught her stealing and copying his homework in their fifth year. Instead of listening to her argument that ‘house loyalty’ should be considered, he hexed her with a mustache that clearly showed her natural hair color was not blonde. It was a week before anyone could figure out a counter hex. Nasty girl, that one.”


She poured out three cups of tea and handed one to Hermione. With a considering moue of disgust, she continued, “If I’m not mistaken, we’re due to receive her eldest child next year. I tremble to think of the owls we’ll no doubt receive about Professor Snape’s unfair treatment of the girl…” She frowned and met Hermione’s gaze. “…If he’s allowed back to teach. I worry that even with Albus coming forward, the other charges will damage Severus’ chances of returning to teach at Hogwarts.”


“You don’t think I’d cooperate with the prosecution?” Hermione asked in disbelief.


“No, dear, of course not,” McGonagall said, but tapped her finger against her lips in consideration. “Even so…his actions were questionable.”


“How can you say that?” Hermione gasped. “You, yourself, urged him to continue on as he was! You as much as ordered him to do what he did!”


“Of course I did. Any other actions would have been exceedingly dangerous.” McGonagall gestured for Hermione to prepare her tea before sitting back to squeeze a lemon wedge into hers. “I was making an objective observation, not a judgment. We may know his actions were necessary; others might not see it that way.”


They had a relaxed tea over which the trial was discussed at length. During that discussion, Dumbledore announced his intention of showing up to take his position of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot at the last minute.


Professor McGonagall shook her head, her lips pursed. Raising a hand to stay her reproof, he said, “They’re used to me being a bit of a renegade, Minerva. Even knowing that, the majority of them voted me into the position. They’ll be shocked and they’ll grumble, but I’ve no doubt they’ll accept it in the end. If I announce myself too soon, the prosecution may get wind of it and postpone the proceedings.” He raised his eyebrows at the Transfiguration professor and she sighed in resignation.


Albus and she had argued over that very subject earlier that morning. When she’d urged him to approach the Wizengamot immediately, he’d refused, saying, “I know Hermione looks on the trial as her public opportunity to exonerate Severus and I’m happy to allow her to have her say – not only to clear him of the charges, but also to give her the ability to air her grievances against us.” At her pensive look, his portrait self had smiled. “Don’t fret, my dear; Hermione hasn’t once expressed resentment toward you. She’s an intelligent young woman with a strong sense of duty. While it’s true she was used abysmally, things didn’t turn out as grim as we had anticipated. However, if the prosecution learns I’m alive, it could irretrievably lose her the perfect moment to have her say.”


Dumbledore gave Minerva a warm smile when she relented, then rose and offered his hand to Hermione. “Now, for that look into the Pensieve I promised.”


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Having a memory pulled from her mind was a strange and disconcerting experience. Dumbledore instructed her to remember the moment of her meeting with Severus at St. Mungo’s and placed his wand to her temple. At his murmured spell, there was a gentle but incessant tapping at the spot where his wand rested, as if someone was seeking entrance. When she willingly offered the memory and it was withdrawn on the tip of his wand, it felt something like the sensation of a splinter being drawn from beneath the skin, although painless. It wasn’t unpleasant so much as it left a lack of something that, until that moment, she hadn’t realized was so deeply entrenched.


Dumbledore placed the silver wisp of memory into the Pensieve, and then they were falling headlong in to it. Even knowing what to expect, the sound of Severus’ voice hit her hard and she drew a trembling gasp at the familiar bass of its tones lapping over her. While she’d been actually experiencing the moment, she hadn’t had time to appreciate it, but now she savored it like a fine wine. She missed his voice. She missed his presence. She missed him. She missed the subtle shift of expression betrayed in his eyes and mouth during conversations - his sharp sense of humor and quick intelligence.


“Hermione. Listen.”


Dumbledore’s voice interrupted her reverie and she turned her attention to the mostly auditory memory. Other than a few surfaces outlined in moonlight and the glitter of eyes, there was little to see.


Just as it had been at the time, the meeting was over nearly as soon as it had begun. Hermione wanted to cry out in protest when Dumbledore withdrew them from the memory.


She dreamed about Severus nearly every evening but those images were wispy and insubstantial in comparison to the clarity of a distinct memory. Even though it wasn’t him, it was the closest thing she could hope for. It occurred to her, in the brief moments it took for them to pull back from the Pensieve, how someone could become addicted to using the device. There were certain memories of her time with Severus in which she could gladly immerse herself, replaying them over and over to savor each caress, each word whispered against her ear. Yes, the Pensieve was a dangerous temptation to someone in her situation. She already spent far too much time lost, considering memories of her time with Severus; having them available in perfect detail to replay like a Muggle DVD was dangerous indeed.


She closed her eyes and drew a bracing breath before turning her attention to Professor Dumbledore. He had asked her something, but she’d missed it as her mind wandered.


“Excuse me, Professor?”


“Would you like to sit? The Pensieve can leave one’s knees a bit wobbly the first time round.” Once they were seated again, Dumbledore repeated his question. “Do you see, now, what I mean about the difference in what one heard and what was said?”


Hermione dropped her eyes. She hadn’t listened to anything but the timbre of Severus’ voice. What was it about the man that muddled her mind, but elicited perfect clarity in her senses? “I didn’t hear anything different this time than I did last.”


“My dear,” Dumbledore said, with a disappointed sigh, “Severus didn’t say he wanted you to remarry, only that he expected you would. He didn’t say he didn’t want to be a part of Sepharus’ life, only that it would benefit you both if he wasn’t.” While he gave Hermione time to think on what he’d said, he poured them all another cup of tea. “You do see the difference, don’t you?”


“He said it would be best if Sepharus never knew him,” Hermione pointed out.


“Yes, he did,” Dumbledore replied, “but all he spoke was conjecture. Speculating upon a situation and desiring it are two very different things. ”


“Why suggest something unless you wish it?” Hermione asked.


“Perhaps to prepare oneself for what one expects to be inevitable,” Dumbledore answered, his eyes probing hers. “Let me urge you to recall our conversation of some months ago regarding Severus’ character, and caution you to keep that in mind when deciding what his words and intentions mean – now and in the future.”