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.

Once again, I am blessed with an awesome beta. Her grasp of the English language, helps me say what I want to say, but in a way that y’all can understand.


Chapter 21- Progress Made

Hermione moved along through the crowds in Diagon Alley, with Severus following like a dark shadow. She was certain that he held his traditional scowl under her Muggle sunglasses, which were perched on his nose. She was aware that he was acting on faith, following her through the crowds on the sunny spring morning. Two evenings earlier she had explained to the dour man that he had been suffering from migraine headaches, a rather Muggle affliction, and that she believed, left untreated for years, the symptoms had run unchecked, and had finally become truly crippling. The acupressure helped alleviate the pain, but other than the painful act of forcing the irritated and swollen orbital nerves back into their appropriate channels along his skull, it was largely smoke and mirrors-a temporary fix at best. The pills were a Muggle medication Gabriel had told her about. They were both a treatment and a diagnostic tool; if he hadn’t been suffering migraines, the pills would not have given Severus relief.

Severus had stared at her suspiciously across the bench table.

“What causes this affliction?” He had asked finally.

“Genetics,” she had said. “Stress, sitting hunched over for long periods of time, malnutrition, dehydration, trauma to the back and neck. Any and all of these, perhaps more. The causes are endless, and from what Gabe told me, no one really agrees about it.”

“What makes the pills work?” Severus had sighed gently. “And how long will they last?”

Hermione had thought for a few minutes, before responding. “If the drug breaks the cycle right away, then you shouldn’t feel any more pain, at least until whatever triggered it reoccurs. If it doesn’t, you may have to take another dose. But, as for what makes it work, I really can’t say. Gabriel said that I only had tension headaches from studying too much, and that stretching, and resting my eyes, would help me. It did, so I didn’t pursue the medication.”

Hermione stepped back as Severus reached around her for the door to the Leaky Cauldron and held it open. She passed through the pub, Transfiguring her clothes into Muggle ones as she walked. Severus again held the door for her as they passed out into Muggle London. She noticed that he had also altered his clothes, and the Muggle sunglasses no longer looked out of place.

-----

Severus walked along side the young witch, once more dressed as a Muggle. His emotions warred within him. He was greatly relieved to find an answer and potential cure for the headaches which had plagued him for years. However, he was discomfited with the notion of carrying a Muggle disease. It seemed beneath him. He had carried the self-appointed label ‘Half-Blood Prince’ within himself as a kind of proud brand, but it was the Wizarding half with which he most identified. Hermione had explained that it was not a disease, but rather a vascular disorder in his brain, but he still felt betrayed somehow, by the Muggle blood he carried.

Hermione had suggested this trip, as she was leaving to return to her chambers. She had thought that they might go to the medical wing of the library at Imperial College in order to research the pills and the disorder, to see if there might be a way to duplicate their effects as a potion. He had agreed, thinking that he would certainly rather have a potion at hand, than to have to chase down more of those pills when he ran out, Hermione had said that they had to come from a visit to a Muggle doctor. He had asked how she got those that she had given him; she had blushed hard.

“Smuggled,” she said, hanging her head. “Bought through a network of kids at the university who deal in such things for money to pay for their schooling.”

As they walked Severus smirked, thinking back at her contrition. It was rather charming thinking that she had broken several Muggle laws to help him. He looked up at the city around him. He had never cared to spend much time here, but the spring colors improved the bustling city on this bright Saturday morning.

After a while, they reached the university and entered the library.

-----

Hermione closed her eyes and stretched, pushing back from the table. She glanced out the tall glass windows and was surprised to find that it was dark outside.

“Severus?” She looked over at the tall man, who was hunched over a large medical text, with several other scattered around him. He frowned, and reached over to consult one of the smaller books. He had ceased asking her questions about the meanings of certain terms that he didn’t know, and had begun to consult some more parochial texts earlier that afternoon. She thought he might be embarrassed at having to ask, and hadn’t commented, but had only retrieved a few more texts which she thought might be helpful.

“Severus?” She tried again, touching his hand. “Severus, it’s dark outside, we’ve been at this all day. I think we should pack it in, for now. We can come back next weekend.”

He looked up startled, and glanced at the windows, for confirmation. He sighed and looked back at her.

“I suppose you are right,” he said. “Would you care to stop for dinner on the way back to Hogwarts?”

She nodded, and began gathering books. Severus was looking tired, but not pained. She was greatly relieved to see that the pills had worked. They had spent an intense, but pleasant, day studying together. She felt that they had made some real progress. They had not taken a break during the day, and dinner sounded good. She knew of a little restaurant nearby which she thought he might approve of. As they left, she nodded to the library staff. Stepping out into the evening, she was pleased to find that it was still fairly warm. Walking wouldn’t be unpleasant, at all.

As they walked along in silence, Hermione reached up and took the wizards elbow to steer him into a turn down another street. Impulsively, she maintained contact and hooked her hand around the crook in his arm. She felt him stiffen slightly, and then relax again. They continued for sometime, until they reached the little Moroccan restaurant she had in mind. Her parents took her here often when she visited them.

-----

The man who seated them smirked at Severus as he tried to fold his long limbs into a comfortable position as they were seated at a low table, on cushions instead of chairs. He looked up and gave the older man a black, evil glare and was rewarded when the man’s face turned ashen, and he departed swiftly.

Settling in, he looked around the room. It was a large square, draped entirely with bright silk cloth, coming from a central point in the ceiling, draping down and back up to the tops of the walls, and then falling to the floor, which was covered with fine Persian rugs. The low tables were only around the edge and had an embroidered curtain hanging between each, giving them a semblance of privacy. He looked back at Hermione as a server arrived with glasses of water and a dish that gave off the most amazing scents. Another server brought a large silver bowl and a pitcher. He set it down next to Hermione and Severus watched as a thin stream of rose-scented water was poured into the bowl, allowing her to wash her hands in the stream, the man then handed her a towel and she dried her hands. The man turned to Severus and the ritual was repeated. When he was done, and had left, he looked around, realizing that while there was that enticing dish on the table, there was no silverware or plates. Then he saw the diminutive witch reach over and tear off a piece with her hands and begin eating, obvious relish playing over her features.

He arched an eyebrow and helped himself. Examining the morsel, he found that it was a minced meat mixture within several layers of light and flaky pastry, which had icing sugar sprinkled on top. The thought of a meat-filled dessert for dinner seemed strange, at best. Taking a bite, he discovered that the meat was a rich and savory blend of ground lamb, dried fruit, and spices, cinnamon and cardamom not least among the flavors, and that the sugar enhanced the dish. Savoring the mix, he glanced over at Hermione. She had her eyes closed and was thoroughly enjoying the treat, humming soft noises of appreciation. He thought back to their walk from the library and wondered if there might be something to her choosing to walk with her hand in his arm. She certainly seemed relaxed in his presence, even in light of his horrible attack. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, and blushed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “I don’t mean to be rude. This is one of my favorite restaurants. My folks and I discovered it a few years ago, when I was visiting from university.”

He smiled. “Quite alright, it is very good,” he said, helping himself to more.

When they finished the dish, they spoke quietly about what their individual studies of the day had revealed. It seemed that the drug affected the nerves, which in turn controlled blood flow to the brain.

The young men returned and removed the finished dish, replacing it with a large platter laden with various foods. They paused in their discussion to enjoy the meal. There was a tender chicken which fell off the bone, vegetables and a tiny, grainy pasta, which Hermione told him was called couscous. Everything was spiced with the interesting cinnamon and cardamom mixture, along with ginger and other spices. They began talking again after they finished.

Soon, the young men returned, clearing the remnants of the excellent meal and pouring glasses of strong peppermint tea, in long streams, from a delicate pot from high above their table. Severus took a sip and found it to be almost achingly sweet from a substantial amount of honey, but it was strong and hot, and very welcome after the complex meal. As they enjoyed the tea, a small musical troupe came in and sat on the floor. They began playing a rhythmic music on hand-held drums and a long-necked stringed instrument.

Severus watched as several women came dancing out onto the central floor. They were dressed from head to toe in a flowing cloth. It was coarse, but shot through with thin strands of beaten silver. They had fine leather slippers on their feet, embroidered with bright threads. Loose pants, which tightened around the calf and ankle, were worn under the flowing skirts of long coats, which were fitted from the hip to the shoulder. Long sleeves covered the arms to the backs of their hands. Their fingers and palms were stained a deep red, in intricate floral designs, which flashed as the dancers moved their arms gracefully to the rhythm of the music.

Their long, black hair was braided into many tiny ropes, and flowed out from under the long silk headdresses as they twirled. Their faces were concealed from the bridge of the nose, down to their chests with a fall of finely worked metal chains, tiny bells hung from the end of each strand. Their eyes were darkened with khol, making the whites of their eyes glow in the candlelit space. Severus watched closely, and noticed that the women varied in age from early twenties to late seventies. They moved in a graceful unison, in time to the music for many long moments. Severus hadn’t noticed that the music was building in volume and tempo until the dancers came to an abrupt halt at the closing beat. After a moments pause, the music started up again, and the dancers danced dreamily out of the room again.

He stared after the dancers, wondering at their unusual dance, and their dreamy, detached manner, long after they had gone. He heard movement next to him, and looked up to see Hermione hand her little Muggle payment card to the older man who had seated them. He scowled. Once again, he was caught off guard and was without Muggle funds. This wouldn’t do. After the man left, he caught her wrist across the table.

“Hermione,” he said quietly. “I find myself at a disadvantage in this world, but I don’t approve of you paying for my meals. Not to be indelicate, but I know you haven’t the Knuts to spare.”

“It’s alright, Severus.” She winked at him. “I have enough, and I don’t mind. If you really can’t accept it, then take me out to dinner in Hogsmeade next week.”

-----

Hermione smiled to herself, as she undressed for the night. Severus had accepted her suggestion to take her out to dinner the following week, and had suggested Wednesday night. All in all, she felt that they had been able to salvage their friendship. Severus had even invited her to join him at his chamber the following evening, a signal of the return to their biweekly evening schnapps.

She crawled into her soft down bed, and thought back on the day. He had been positively pleasant over the course of the day. Still sharp, and certainly not a blathering idiot, but much improved with the relief from his pain. It was very much like the evenings they had spent together in the previous months, after they had become comfortable with each other. They had simply worked side by side, in companionable silence. During dinner he had been willing to experience something most certainly new to him. Most importantly, he had not recoiled from her when she hooked her hand into his arm and allowed her to walk with him. She closed her eyes and sighed at the memory.

As she began to drift off, she thought of Michael and Rafael. The two would be wrapping up the ski season and would be heading out into the deep desert to warm up until the remainder of the snow melted, and traveling in the woods became easy again. She thought about the warming weather bringing the spring runoff, small streams swelling into raging torrents, and the danger it brought. She envisioned icicles melting into tiny thawing streams. She heard a bird sing, a melodic trill followed by a stattico buzz, as the snow bank receded, adding more melt to the growing brook. Rocks in the channel caused the water to burble cheerfully. The banks began to green and wildflowers popped up and opened to the sun. As the snowline moved farther up the ravine, the brook swelled into a small river.

She walked in the sun, moving along the river down towards the little pond. She looked up and saw the snow melt off of her yurt, and smiled as a family of squirrels bounded up the trees of the living structure. A noise off to the left, near the low ridge, which contained the pond, caught her attention. A few deer moved among the quaking aspen trees, which were greening up as their leaves unfurled. She walked down to the pond, and knelt to take up a sip of cold water in her palm. As she reached down, with her hand cupped, she recoiled as a body floated to the surface. It was broken and rotted; it twisted and rotated until the face was revealed. She stared in horror into the bloated and disintegrating face of Goyle Sr. The body had been badly mangled in the avalanche, and had been further damaged when it was swept downstream in the spring runoff. Movement caught her eye, and she stared as several more rotten bodied floated to the surface of her pond. She fell back and sat on the tender alpine plants, smashing them with a heavy thump.

She felt tears sting her eye, and wiped them away angrily.

“Miss Granger,” she heard Severus say. “You need to understand that killing those men is no different than killing the Dark Lord himself. They were not innocent men. They were incapable of good or kind actions.” She looked at her reflection in the water, and saw the tall figure walk up behind her, silhouetted by the bright sun behind them. She turned on her hip, adjusting her position to reach up and take his hand. But, the hand that took hers gripped her cruelly, crushing her thin bones, and she looked up at his face in shock. It wasn’t Severus leering down at her; it was Fenrir Greyback. She stared for a moment, helpless in her horror.

She screamed as he lunged at her.

-----

Severus sipped his coffee, scowling out at the chattering students at breakfast. He had missed Hermione on Sunday and hoped to see her at breakfast, and was disappointed that she had chosen to eat in her chambers. He noticed Minerva looking at him and was faintly pleased at the little smile on her face. It seemed he and Hermione’s ability to repair their friendship contented the older witch.

‘Well,’ he thought. ‘She’s not the only one pleased.’

The dinner with Hermione was excellent, and he had enjoyed the renewal of an easy rapport with the remarkable witch. He had been concerned about an attack, but the library had been quite crowded with students cramming for exams, and he didn’t think such a public attack would be risked in the Muggle facility. On the way to dinner, he was on point, keeping close watch on the shadows. He thought back again to her holding onto his arm as the walk, and felt his heart thump. Severus decided he was comfortable allowing himself to like the woman. She had seen him at his absolute worst, and had forgiven him. They would certainly never return to the astonishing moment in her rooms, which lead them to make love that early morning. His vicious attack on her was forgiven, but he knew she would never forget. He was satisfied with friendship. He knew that someday she would find a young wizard to marry, but he quickly squelched the disappointment he felt at that thought.

He finished the last bite of toast and rose to start his day. On his way out, he noticed that Maddox and Tybalt were walking into breakfast together talking animatedly, with two separate knots of students following. The Gryffindors looked vaguely uncomfortable, and the Slytherins were obviously doing their best to look casual and failing. The public display of friendship between the princes of both houses was disconcerting to most of the students, but no fights had broken out yet. Severus smirked as he walked out the door.

Moving through the halls, he was startled as Hermione’s eagle shot out of a doorway and took off into the sky. He rushed out into the courtyard to follow the progress of the great bird. It flapped heavy wings and rose up along the edge of the tower. Finally, it caught a column of rising air and circled, rising higher and higher. Severus watched until it disappeared from view. Sighing, he turned and walked to his potions classroom. He still regretted not being able to return to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, as he certainly had the qualifications. However, Minerva had a very good point, when she suggested that perhaps that might be asking too much of the parents who had lodged their protests asking for his removal, and had accepted her refusal. She suggested that Potions might bother them less, because it didn’t seem as closely related to Voldemort. He had argued at the time, that it was patent nonsense, and that Defense Against the Dark Arts was exactly that- Defense. But, in the end, he had acquiesced and accepted a return to the Potions position.

In truth, he was relieved. He enjoyed teaching either subject, but not having the daily reminders of Voldemort came as an unexpected relief. He had always preferred Potions to other subjects, but had thought it his duty to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, as a kind of penance for falling under Voldemorts sway. By preparing the next generation, he believed that he might train the one who would go on to destroy the despotic wizard. He hadn’t really thought that Potter would be the one to do it. That wizard had just been too recklessly stubborn as a boy.

He sighed, remembering the night that Lily had been murdered, an action which had changed the course of his life, and opened the empty student supplies cupboard with a wave of his wand. Another wave brought the ingredients for the days lessons floating out of his supply closet and he watched idly as small portions of each lined up on the cupboard shelves, organized by class.

Tonight, Hermione would return to his rooms, and they could enjoy a quiet evening in. He hoped to discuss some ideas with her about developing a potion that would have the same effect as her Muggle pills.

------

Hermione sat on Severus’ sofa with her feet tucked up under her, sipping a small glass of Pate-Pluma. She enjoyed the sharp, earthy and herby flavors, it was unique and a rare treat. Muriel had introduced her to gefiete, and had shipped a bottle earlier in the week as a special treat and reminder of their friendship. In turn, she brought it to share with Severus, to celebrate the renewal of their friendship. She studied Severus as he sat in his chair sipping the rare moonshine rum. His face was relaxed and he closed his eyes, appreciating the complex flavors.

She took another sip, and closed her eyes herself. She hadn’t managed to sleep much over the previous two nights. Both nights she was plagued with nightmares. Each time she tried to wake up, Fenrir kept dragging her back into their twisted depths. She spent the night running through dark woods, being chased by the violent werewolf. Monday morning brought an all-too-brief respite, before a long day teaching. But Sunday had been spent in seclusion, trying to think through a way to capture the madman.

She knew that Harry and Ron would do their utmost to capture or kill the remaining Death Eaters, and Severus would certainly prove an effective deterrent to attack outside of Hogwarts. She thought back to that night in his rooms. With vivid clarity, she saw the flash from his wand, and felt the dual impact of the spell hitting her chest, and her back hitting the wall. She looked down again and saw the appalling damage, and looked up into Fenrir’s sneering face.

She felt a grip her shoulder and jerked awake.

“Hermione.” Severus was standing above her, frowning down at her. “You’ve been asleep for some while. It’s late.”

She sighed and set down her glass on a small table. Standing up, she murmured an apology and moved towards the door.

“I’ll see you Wednesday?” She looked up at the wizard, absently noting to look of concern in his eyes. “Really, I’m alright. I just haven’t slept much lately.”

He nodded at her. “Perhaps we should postpone our dinner. There is no reason to tire you out further. We could go into Hogsmeade another night.”

Hermione smirked. “Not on your life. I’m fine. Good night.”

She felt his eyes on her as she left and walked down the dark dungeon corridor.

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A/N: Hi all. I’m bummed that I wasn’t able to get this chapter out in the week I was hoping for. Both my new super-beta and I are in the process of moving. Interesting timing, we live in different parts of the world and lead different lives, yet we end up moving at the same time. At any rate, it’s the wee hours of the morning, and I’m at home polishing this up for publication. I don’t have internet at home, and I leave the state first thing in the morning. So, I don’t have your wonderful comments to reply to. Rather than delay further to leave individual replies, I have chosen to publish for the weekend, by swinging by a wireless site in a few hours, on my way out of town.

Please be assured that I cherish each and every one of you returning to finish this tale with me, and am equally pleased to find a new audience, as well. The response generated by Evening Schnapps has inspired me to begin developing an original story line in my own, more familiar, genre… science fiction. Don’t expect anything soon. I have a Masters to finish, before I can consider a second career in writing. However, your kind words have lead me to dust off some ideas that have always pestered me to expand and commit to paper.

Along those lines, I am thinking about setting up a blog, independent of the aff world. If you are someone who would be interested in reading the ramblings of field geologist, sometimes writer, drop me a line and let me know. If there is interest, I’ll provide information when the blog comes on line. Either way, I continue to work on Evening Schnapps, and have the next chapter out to my beta. Please be patient, and we are both accomplishing our moves largely without assistance.