A Terrible Temptation

A/N - I am so sorry for the long silence, but I have been really ill. Winter allergies trigger my asthma, between the mold, the cold and the dust I am knocked for a loop. I managed to get a chapter done and I am working on the next one. I am sorry it is taking me so long, but I am wheezing and coughing something fierce. Thanks to my reveiwers who have been patient and sweet adn to the gang on WIKTT who have sent me so many get well soon cards.


Chapter 26 – Mysteries

Hermione followed behind Professor McGonagall’s brisk pace with her own feet moving double time to keep up. She was whisked past doors and hallways as they threaded the labyrinthine bowels of the Ministry of Magic. The Professor’s rigid back and quick pace had just the slightest touch of irritation in them. Hermione had noted the rather warm and overly effusive reception they had gotten from the security guards and the pleasant nods and smiles from various Ministry workers and they had contrasted sharply with the rather cold reception they had received from the secretary who had directed them to the Bureau of Animagus Registration.

Hermione was probably more aware of politics than the average student. As a member of the Order she read classified documents and was privy to conversations that were far from ordinary. She knew of the schism in the Ministry. She knew that the Fudge-ites resented that their beloved Minister was made to look a fool by Professor Dumbledore and Harry. The opposing faction, led by Arthur Weasley, was relieved that Fudge’s incompetent denial of reality was all out in the open and they could now fight Voldemort. The antagonism in the building was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

They turned a corner and saw the Bureau of Animagus Registration. It was in a sub-basement, as it was a rare enough skill that there was no need for a larger office. Or staff -- Hermione blinked at the closet they stepped into with only one rather creaking old woman and a ledger book. The woman was rail thin with a bun so tight it stretched her face and gave her eyes a slightly Asian cast.

“Name!” She glared at them as they entered.

“Hermione Granger.” A little startled by the abruptness of it all, Hermione answered with a tiny squeak.

“Animal?” The black robed Witch barked out.

“Cat.” Hermione answered with a certain degree of pride. She enjoyed her new form a great deal.

“Change.” The nasty old woman ordered and Hermione flowed into her other self and leapt onto the desk so that her markings could be noted. “Hmm, yes.” The woman muttered and took note of her color and jotted it all down in the big musty smelling ledger. “Change back.” She snapped and Hermione obeyed feeling a trifle miffed by the woman’s cold treatment.

The gray-haired woman then scribed something onto a small card and set it before Hermione.

“Two Galleons.” She extended her hand and Hermione placed the coins in the withered fingers, which closed around them like a hand of glory. Hermione picked up her registration card, slipped it into her pocket and headed out with Minerva. The woman didn’t even say thank you or good-bye.

“How terribly rude.” Hermione muttered as they were heading away.

“Well, an employee is assigned to Animagus Registration when they have failed at everything else. It is a Ministry oubliette; you are put there until you either die or quit.” Minerva replied with a snort.

“Still, she was awful.” Hermione protested.

“Let’s stop and get something to eat, dear, I’m famished.” The rail thin Professor suddenly announced. Hermione looked at the older woman in surprise; after all they had just finished breakfast in the Great Hall, not that long ago.

The Richoux Tea House was one of a chain of muggle restaurants and Hermione was quite startled that Professor McGonagall had chosen it. The teacher had transfigured their robes into muggle clothing and then marched off rapidly towards the teahouse.

Hermione quickly found herself ensconced in a booth towards the back, far from the Wizarding World with her teacher, sipping tea and nibbling on a scone. The place was blandly English with simple tasteful décor, but little imagination.

Professor McGonagall fell silent as they ate and Hermione’s mind wandered back to the last letter she had received, each word imprinted on her memory in perfect recall from the many re-readings she had subjected it too. It puzzled her as though she were missing pieces of it:


Ay, it weetweet! Half hidden,--half revealed--
You see the dark folds of my shrouding cloak,
And I, the glimmering wnessness of your dress:
I but a shadow--you a radiance fair!
Know you what such a moment holds for me?
If ever I were eloquent.
Yet never till to-night my speech has sprung
Straight from my heart as now it springs.
Till now I spoke haphazard.
Your eyes
Have beams that turn men dizzy!--But to-night
Methinks I shall find speech for the first time!
Ay,--to be at last sincere;
Till now, my chilled heart, fearing to be mocked.
For its mad beating!--Ay,
My heart has clothed itself with witty words,
To shroud itself from curious eyes:--impelled
At times to aim at a star, I stay my hand,
And, fearing ridicule,--cull a wild flower!

It was impassioned, thrilling, and deeply perplexing. Who could write such a thing and send it? Why did they fear ridicule? And why was it always this formalized set of quotations? Why was it never their own words? Who was hiding behind a…black shrouding cloak? Hermione nearly choked on her tea as it finally hit her.

She decided that her vaunted intelligence waghlyghly overrated if she could have missed the ever so obvious conclusion that had been staring her in the face. Snape, it had to be Professor Snape sending her the letters. Her emotions rose in a tumult inside of her as she grappled with the image of Professor Snape hunched over a desk scribbling love notes to her.

“Miss Granger?” The low voice of her teacher brought her out of her reverie and she blushed crimson as she met the knowing eyes of her teacher.

“I’m sorry, I must have been wool-gathering.” She stuttered. McGonagall nodded and gave her a level stare.

“In my seventh year at Hogwarts I fell in love with my Transfigurations teacher, you know.” The statement was delivered dryly and with an eyebrow cocked at the younger woman and Hermione decided that drinking any more tea today might be fatal as she spit the next sip into her cup. Her shock seemed to amuse the professor no end.

“Really?” Hermione squeaked out with what little breath she had left in her body.

“Yes. We were married many years ago and are still together to this day.” She added with a small smile that Hermione found more alarming than the statement itself. What was Professor McGonagall implying?

“That’s nice.” Hermione’s mind clicked over and her eyes widened suddenlYou You and Professor Dumbledore are married?” She hissed out trying not to be overheard. The professor chuckled, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes, Miss Granger for nearly forty-five years.” Hermione tried valiantly to imagine a twenty something woman marrying a man nearly eighty years her senior and failed.

“Love knows nothing of age or station; it simply sees one heart, one soul and one mind as being the center of all things dear and precious.” The older woman’s eyes were filled with a deep wisdom and a quiet joy that spoke to Hermione. The words moved through her and she knew suddenly, it all became clear.

“It was Professor Snape, wasn’t it, all that time? It was never Harry, was it?” She framed it as a question, but the words were more a statement of simple fact. Thinking back she could see so clearly the things that were fuzzy at the time.

“Yes child, though that is a great secret. By saving Harry, Severus put himself at great risk – again.” The teacher’s eyes had gone sad and worried.

“Why didn’t he say anything?” Hermione was getting angry now, why didn’t anyone tell her? The words of his last letter came back to burn before her eyes “Till now, my chilled heart, fearing to be mocked for its mad beating!” she whispered.

“Not merely that dear, but think it it would be if anyone were to find out?” Hermione frowned at the Professor, realizing that the scandal would be terrible if anyone found out but…Voldemort. Of course, Professor Snape was still spying; he would be killed if it were discovered that he had…feelings for a Muggleborn Gryffindor.

Hermione was blushing again. She remembered the intensity of his gaze and the incredible passion he had displayed on the Quidditch field; the idea of having all of that directed at her left her breathless.

“It’s a little overwhelming.” She murmured and her teacher nodded in sympathetic understanding.

“It is. There is a complex, difficult, intense and explosive person inside that man hidden from most people. He can be very hard to reach and yet the rewards for being his friend have been great for me. I can only imagine what he could give to someone he loves.” Hermione was trembling at the thought of it, of that much ardor being bestowed upon her. McGonagall’s words conjured images that while they set her heart to pounding also made her apprehensive. Could she handle someone like him?

“I don’t think I am ready for anything like that.” Hermione confessed. McGonagall nodded and leaned back in her seat.

“Dear girl, he would never lay a hand on you as long as you are a student. Not only would it violate the ethics that he swears he doesn’t have, but Albus would turn him into hamburger in a heartbeat.” Smiling fondly at her husband’s protective nature, Professor McGonagall took a sandwich from the tea tray.

Hermione relaxed; graduation was months away, the N.E.W.T.s were coming and she had time to mull over her conflicting emotions.

“What I would like to know is if I should tell him if it’s hopeless or not?” Her professor’s words took her by surprise and Hermione looked up in startlement. Her mind returned to the dream, the kiss and the small child that was the last bit of joy in Severus Snape’s life. She remembered how the garden had been starting to turn green again. She knew suddenly that it was the most important thing in her whole life that the garden should bloom again. It was like a ray of sun breaking through the clouds as all the pieces fell together in to a picture that made perfect sense to her.

“I may not be ready for what he has to offer, but I love him and I would do anything to keep him from being hurt again.” She admitted, knowing that she had just set in motion something that would sweep her along to a future she had never even considered before, but one that felt perfectly right. The woman across the table from her gave her a pleased and happy smile that told Hermione that at least she would have one ally in all this, even if no one else ever understood.

“I will pass that on.” Minerva McGonagall said with a soft voice.