Evening Schnapps

J.K. Rowling is the owner of all except specific characters, situations, and plot bunnies that are unique to this story. I make no money, but lots of satisfaction from taking out her characters and playing with them for a while before putting them back.


A/N:

Many thanks to my über-beta SignoraAligheri, and my sweetie Evan! They just prove that you really can’t do anything in this world without people looking out for you.

I’d like to take a moment to welcome my new beta, Aubrey. She is going to be helping me rework some of the finer points of grammar, preparatory to bringing Evening Schnapps out to other sites. It’ll be a while till she’s working on current chapters with SignoraAligheri and I, but she is a valuable member of the team. Along those lines, I’ll be editing chapters already posted here. In order to keep things running smoothly, I’ll integrate edits to previous chapters with posting new ones.

One more note. I am sorry I was not able to meet the deadline of Sunday evening with this one. It was written in time to publish, but not in time to get through the beta process. Given the time constraints when I wrote it, I felt it was rough enough that I had to lose the challenge, rather than publish crap. So, a little late, but here it is.


Chapter 19- Revelations

Severus reached for the small package. It took his total and devoted focus to grab the tiny, paper-wrapped box, as his hand was trembling so badly, that his eyes couldn’t track its movement. He eventually had to close his eyes and reach blindly, because the low light in the room seemed to be wildly fluctuating, pulsing between a low level and a bright light that felt like stabbing knives.

When he felt the paper wrapping, he snatched up the package, and brought it to his chest. Ripping it open, without even bothering straighten up. Once the paper was gone, he opened his eyelids and squinted at the contents. It was a small, orange canister. Inside, he could make out some tiny tablets. He scowled at the ‘gift’ from Hermione.

‘Muggle,’ he thought. ‘No, I won’t. Their methods are barbaric.’

He grimaced as another wave of pain threatened his ability to stay conscious. He closed his eyes, recalling the fatally wounded witch in his arms. He had saved her, but she might never forgive him. The most painful part was that she was right. She was the only person to ever call him a coward, and be correct in her accusation. From the time he was a child, battered, rejected, and outcast, his attempts to ask for help had been met with ridicule and humiliation. From the first, he had learned to withdraw into and rely only upon himself. One of the hardest things he had ever experienced was the night he approached Albus to seek his help in leaving Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Even then, Albus had offered him help, a kind of absolution, but at a price.

In order to help bring Voldemort down, Severus had to allow himself to become a virtual slave to Dumbledore and the Order. Under his Unbreakable Vow with Albus, he had to endure every torture, every cost, without complaining enough that Albus might doubt him. As a consequence, he rarely asked for help from the one man he knew would give it freely. In fact, the only other time he asked for help, was the day he told Albus about being trapped into an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa. Albus’ answer to that plea for help was to order Severus to kill him, and to ensure his compliance with yet another Unbreakable Vow. In all the years that followed, Severus would never again be tempted to ask for help, from anyone.

Now, as he was hunched over on his knees, crippled with pain, he realized that he must accept the help offered him, even if it was suspect. Hermione was correct; he was a coward. He stayed on his knees, clutching the Muggle tablets, frozen in indecision. He thought of the copper-eyed witch standing so bravely in his rooms, facing one of the most dangerous wizards alive, who was in a murderous rage, blind from pain and unable to think. He owed it to her. He owed it to himself.

Severus tried to open the bottle, but was unable to turn the white top, or pry it off. Finally, he smashed the bottle against the cold stone. White tablets scattered across the floor, as a sharp piece of the broken cylinder lodged deep in his palm. With a trembling hand, he reached out and struggled to grasp one of the tiny tablets. Finally, he caught one between his thumb and forefinger and brought it to his mouth. At first, it seemed to suck the moisture off his tongue, then, it began to dissolve.

He winced at the bitter flavor. It was foul. Worse even than Skele-Gro. He lurched forward, crawling to the hearth where the bottle of firewhisky was. He found it empty. He looked around, but there was nothing. He crawled to the bath and reached up, turning on the sink tap. Cupping a little water in his hand, he brought it back to his mouth and slurped it up. He gulped the cool liquid and reached up for another handful. The strain proved too much and he felt himself slip, falling back into unconsciousness.

-------

Hermione sat on the floor of the dungeon corridor. She had done it. Anything else was entirely up to Severus now. Her fingers drifted up to her chest again, tracing the path of the cutting curse. She was convinced now, more than ever, that Severus thought more of her than a few drinks and a single moment of pleasure. She wondered at his ability to heal her, even to heal the scar. Since she was eleven years old, she had known Severus to be a powerful wizard. As she became older and more experienced in the Wizarding world, she grew to respect his power, even come to be in awe of it. Still, she found it hard to believe that he was powerful enough to heal that huge wound so thoroughly.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself up, and began to walk back to her rooms. She had to see for herself. As she walked, she kept thinking about the lack of scar tissue. Severus had looked deathly ill when she came to. Perhaps he had expended more energy than normal, controlling the magic behind the spell, so that he was able to direct it sufficiently enough to reverse the damage. That would have drained him severely, dangerously, perhaps enough to explain his deathly pall.

Hermione opened the door to her rooms and walked back to the bathroom, shedding clothes along the way. She waved her hand and turned on all the taps, rapidly filling her tub. She gave a tight smile as she watched the water rush into the swimming pool. It was a luxury she still marveled at. While it filled, she turned and looked in her large mirror. For all she could see, Severus’ vicious Sectumsempra hex had never happened. She ran her hands over her belly and breast. She could feel no abnormality to betray the damage. Sighing, she turned to the bath, only to see something glint faintly in the mirror.

Turning back, she could find nothing to have caused it. She leaned in close to the mirror and finally caught the faint silver sheen on her collarbone. Touching it, she could feel a slight difference in the skin, and realized that the silver mark was slightly numb. Following the path of the cut, she found a second silver mark over her opposite hipbone. She remembered the cut there. As she was losing consciousness, she had stared down at the wound and had seen the glint of bone at her hip. Scar tissue had remained, but only a tiny bit. Given the inhuman effort it must have taken to heal her, he must have lost consciousness before he could finish.

She touched the faint scars on her hip and collarbone, so much fainter than scars she had acquired in the fight against Voldemort, and living up at the yurt.

‘I can live with this,’ she thought, as she turned and slid into the hot bubble bath. ‘I just hope Severus can.’

-------

Severus woke, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling in his bathroom. He felt hollow. He blinked as he realized that the light shining in from the sitting room no longer hurt his eyes. He took a deep breath experimentally. There was no pain when his body shifted. He closed his eyes and focused on his head. The pain was gone. Slowly, he pushed himself up. His arm buckled under him, when the pressure drove the broken piece of bottle further into his palm. Adjusting to the other hand, he pushed himself upright. The nausea was absent. All in all, he felt all right.

He stood up and walked out into the sitting room and looked up at the marked candle. It was 4 o’clock in the morning. Whatever was in the Muggle tablet, it had worked. His headache was gone. He reached up and ran a hand across his face and through his hair. There was no residual sensitivity, as there had been when Hermione had used her hands to relieve the pain. He rolled his head around. It really was gone. The only sensation remaining was the unique absence of pain. Severus stood torn, on one hand, he wanted to go to his labs and chart this experience. On the other, he still felt exhausted and more than a little hung over from the bottle of alcohol he had consumed. He should sleep, as he had classes in the morning. He ran both hands down the sides of his face, hissing as the contact shifted the shard in his hand. He walked over to the spot where Hermione had fallen and picked up his wand.

Severus pulled the shard out and cast a wound-healing spell, but the spell didn’t work. He frowned and focused harder. Finally, on the third attempt, the skin began to knit, but the strain was too much. He still had a scab covering the cut, when he was forced to stop. Panting from the exertion, he gave up the idea of going to his lab, and headed off to his bedroom, instead.

-------

Hermione sat in the small office in the Ministry of Magic, waiting for the occupant to arrive. She had awoken early, not sleeping much after the stressful night before. When she ordered her breakfast from the House Elves, the tray arrived with a letter tucked in next to the plate of coddled eggs and toast. She read the summons as she sipped her tea. All together, she didn’t think she could have handled coffee and anything heavy this morning. Coddled eggs and toast was what her mother made for her, when she was a child and was sick. It was profound comfort food to her.

The summons had been a brief note from the Ministry requiring her presence in under an hour, at the Aurors offices. She took a few hurried bites of her breakfast, and carried her tea into her bedroom with her. Pausing only for rushed sips, she dressed rapidly and swept out of the room. When she had arrived at the Great Hall, Minerva was already there, holding a letter. When she had reached the table, Minerva had explained that she too, had received a Ministry letter requesting Hermione’s presence. She had explained that she would cover her classes until she returned and that Hermione should eat a quick breakfast and go. Hermione had explained that she had already eaten and departed.

Once she arrived at the Ministry and was processed through, she was lead to a cramped office in the Department of Aurors. She sat on one of two chairs on either side of the door she had come in through, facing two desks. They were set end to end, both facing the door. There were shelves and filing cabinets on either side of the desks, but other than a worn rug, the office was bare. She had been waiting for only a few minutes when Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley swept in.

“Harry! Ron! How are you?” Hermione jumped up and ran to hug them. She hadn’t been able to visit them in person since her return. Her owled letters were never returned immediately, but took weeks for responses, and her invitations to get together were always politely sidestepped. They had risen swiftly through the ranks, and were partners working on the more difficult cases together.

After hugs and kisses were shared around, and coffee poured for all, they spent a few minutes on pleasantries. Hermione, however, realized that the men in front of her were guarded, holding up an edge of professionalism she hadn’t expected in a reunion such as this.

------

Severus swept into the Great Hall, enjoying the strength of his stride. He felt well. When he woke that morning, he had only had a few hours of sleep. But a quick raid of his potions stores, for a Pepper-Up to combat the remnants of the hang over and a bit of dittany to complete the healing of his hand, had him feeling hale and healthy. He bathed and shaved, pausing only to levitate a few items, just for the reassurance that the initial failure of his healing spell hours earlier, was due to exhaustion and nothing more sinister. As he moved out through his sitting room, he discovered that the House Elves had cleared away the broken bottle, but had salvaged each of the scattered tablets, and had placed them on the sideboard in a dark glass jar.

Now, as he sat at the Head Table, he felt curiously normal. He reached for a piece of toast and poured cream into his coffee, satisfied that he would be able to eat with no ill effects.

“Severus,” Minerva said, leaning over to him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Minerva.” Severus’ voice was missing some of the customary venom, even to his own ears. To the untrained eye, he likely looked like the scary, dour man he always was, but felt sure that his old friend could see that he was really feeling well; in a good mood even.

An owl swooped down before they could say anything further and dropped a letter onto the table in front of Severus. Frowning, he opened the letter, finding that it was an immediate summons to the Ministry of Magic, Department of Aurors.

“It’s all right, Severus.”

He heard Minerva speaking and turned to see her looking at him over the rim of her glasses. She held up a letter.

“I have received notification and have an idea to cover your classes while you are gone.” At his scowl, she continued. “If I am correct, you were giving practical potion exams to your classes today? The Bloody Baron has agreed to proctor the exams, making certain that your students do not help each other, or cheat in any manner. When they are finished, he will leave the potion samples for you to grade, when you return. Is this acceptable?”

Severus nodded curtly and swept from the hall. As he walked to the gates, he wondered what the Ministry was going to throw at him now. On occasion, some of the more stubborn Aurors had tried to prove that he was still the evil-doing Death Eater they so wanted him to be. They had always failed, but the stress of undergoing another inquest wasn’t something he particularly relished.

Reaching the gates, he stepped through. He looked up, surprised. He had been so deep in his thoughts, that he hadn’t realized that it was a gorgeous spring morning. The bright sun was up, and shining down on the green hills and wildflowers. The damp breeze was still chilling in the early hour, but where the sun hit his face, it warmed the skin rapidly. He allowed a small smile to cross his lips, as he realized that the bright morning sun didn’t hurt his eyes, even when he turned his face towards it. It was with that smile, he Disapparated.

He allowed himself the luxury of Apparating directly into the Ministry phone booth. He was no longer smiling, a habitual frown once again crossing his face, but he held his patience with the Ministry employees much better than usual, and was processed through with a minimal of fuss. He was led back through the Department of Aurors, and he steeled himself for the confrontation that would surely follow. When the guide opened the door, and ushered him in, he was surprised to see Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley sitting at matched desks, facing him. Harry had never forgiven him for killing Albus, but the events that followed had led to an unspoken truce between them. Weasley usually followed Potter’s lead, so he found himself uncertain, wondering why Potter would suddenly become one of those who tried to trip him up. As the door shut behind him, he became aware of another, sitting in a chair facing the Aurors. Looking down, he saw Hermione sitting, sipping calmly on a cup of coffee.

‘Oh no…’ he thought, feeling his heart fall. ‘She reported me for attacking her last night.’

Severus drew himself up and gathered his strength around him. His spell may not be an Unforgivable, but he felt certain that he was about to lose everything. Azkaban was certainly a probability, even if it wasn’t a life sentence.

“Professor Snape,” Harry began, “I’m glad you came so quickly, can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

Severus looked down at the young man, as if he had just propositioned him. Taking a half second to steady himself for the unusual interrogation tactic, he nodded curtly and sat in the chair next to Hermione. The coffee delivered and a few moments of disconcerting pleasantries, and Severus was about ready to jump out of his skin.

“Well,” Ron began, “I suppose we should get down to business.”

Severus nodded; he knew the moment had finally arrived.

“As you are undoubtedly aware,” Ron continued, folding his hands together on his desk and leaning forward, “there has not been much apparent activity on the report you filed after the holidays, regarding your encounter with the Death Eaters in America.”

Severus arched an eyebrow and glanced over at Hermione. She had tensed slightly, but looked nowhere near as confused as he felt. Perhaps. Perhaps, she had not told them. Perhaps, she didn’t intend on telling them. She looked over at him and he watched as a small smile graced her face, before she turned back to her two friends.

------

“Yes, why is that?” Hermione asked, pleased that Severus appeared better. There was a very high probability that he had listened to her. “I would have expected at least some type of response from you or Harry, at the least.”

Harry sighed. “Hermione, we have been working on your case non-stop since you filed the report. It was assigned to us, and we’ve largely spent our time overseas hunting them down. However, we have reason to believe that the cell of rogue Death Eaters has returned to the London area.”

“Hermione,” Ron interjected, “we have reason to believe that Fenrir Greyback survived the avalanche.”

“That means he will come straight for Hermione.”

She turned to face the man who spoke last. Severus was looking directly at her with unfathomable eyes. She saw a dangerous glint in the shadows of his black irises, one that made her heart skip a beat.

“It is almost certain that he will, Professor.” Harry leaned back in his chair and took a gulp of strong black coffee. “We just don’t know how or when.”

“We need to protect Hermione,” Ron said.

“Yes,” continued Harry. “We need to make sure that she doesn’t leave Hogwarts. Without the protection of the castle wards, she’s too vulnerable.”

“Hey!” Hermione jumped up abruptly. “I’ll not be held at the school like some prisoner.”

Harry stood and came around the desk at her. She watched in surprise as the young black-haired man took her by the shoulders and shook her once.

“Hermione, listen to me!” Harry growled at her. “I’ve been spending years of my life trying to protect those around me. I will not lose you!”

Hermione felt anger welling up inside. She had spent years taking care of herself, without Harry there to protect her. She felt his hands gripping her shoulders tightly and felt confined, claustrophobic even. She stared into the hardened, green eyes, behind those familiar glasses. He showed no sign of backing down, but she was not going to allow herself to be placed in some kind of house arrest, just so he could feel better. She shoved her friend back away from her, hard.

She watched as Harry fell back and tried to catch himself on his desk. He managed it, but only just, and his glasses slipped from his face, cracking against the desk before hitting the rug below. Anger allowed her to remain passive as she watched Harry right himself. He bent and retrieved his glasses, walking back around to sit in his chair once more. He sighed and picked up his wand.

“Occulus Reparo.”

She fought to keep from laughing, as she remembered that he had promised her as a child that he would remember that spell. Finally, she couldn’t help herself. Laughing out loud, she lowered herself back into her seat. Harry began laughing, too, while Severus and Ron looked on in confusion.

“Hermione,” Harry said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I know you can take care of yourself, but Fenrir will be coming for blood. We need to be able to stop him, and we won’t be able to if we don’t know where you are.”

“Maybe you’d let us come with you, when you want to leave Hogwarts?” Ron tried.

“And what if you are busy?” Hermione shot, “Am I to be forced to conform to your schedule? Even excluding the time you were working on this case over seas, you boys have hardly shown me the time of day since we graduated. The result will be the same and I will never be allowed the freedom to leave Hogwarts.”

“That’s why we asked Professor Snape to join us.” Harry said calmly, turning to face Severus. “I was hoping to ask for his help.”

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A/N:

Juls- *blush* Wow. It is really cool to be told that you are succeeding at what you are trying so hard to achieve. Keeping them both in character, at all times, was a major goal in the writing, as we exploring the dynamic that could bring them together. As for your stories, I was surprised to see 19 titles, you are quite a prolific author! As it happens, I’ve been following Ensnaring the Senses, I just hadn’t glanced up to see who the author was. Whoops! I love that one, btw.

ShilohDarke- Waiting patiently has never been my strong suit, either. :D

Amsev- You are certainly reading his reactions fairly accurately. You know, I once reached out and took hold of a piece of metal a dear friend of mine (we’d known each other for 12 years) had been annealing next to me. I watched him do it. I heard the blowtorch he used. I had on my safety goggles on because of the danger. I saw the glowing yellow/red of the metal. He was showing it to me. Yeah, like a dumbass, instinct took over and I reached out and took it in my hand, my bare hand. The pain was so bad, that even though he only said ‘that’s hot’, by way of sympathy as I was clutching my hand, I couldn’t think straight. I cursed him out, I cursed his mother out, and I cursed every relative he ever had. When the pain subsided, I felt like crap. It took me hours to win his forgiveness. Pain makes people do stupid things. Unbearable pain, makes people do unbearably stupid things. As for other sites, I’m working on it. Petulant Poetess is first on the list. Oh, and get back to those threesomes-moresomes. It’s hard to find a really, really good one, that’s not just PWP. (not that I mind PWP, those are fun, too!) A fun 3some is on the Fred/George board. Check it out. It’s a completed work called To Dare and it’s by Taja Reyul. http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=544215704 Percs?! LOL that’d make it all better, wouldn’t it? Heh heh, but I think a bottle of booze and a handful of percocets wouldn’t really help him do much of anything but drool.

Pickles- OWL no, PP yes. I’ll include OWL in my x-post list. I don’t have a LJ for announcements, and this is the only project I have going. The only time I can shave from to write is my sleep time, and I’m down to 5 hours a night, as it is. I’ve heard about the cold there. It warmed up here because of your cold. I’m praying something blasts in from the pacific to break this miserable pattern our split jet stream has set up for us.
Ugg.

Bill- I’m glad you understood the dynamic going on in the conflict. The big warning was for the more sensitive folks out there. As for ‘he’ll have a stroke’ LOL I was just thinking of your profession. It was an awfully big lac. ;)