A Terrible Temptation

A/N - Thanks to Kate for kicking my butt and making me go back and re-write a bunch of this. Have I mentioned that I adore her? what, you were getting that impression? :)

I also adore my reviewers who are a group of charming wonderful people with excellent taste! ;)




Chapter 35 – A Time for Endings

Ron slumped back in his chair yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“It’s two in the morning, what do they do at those meetings?” He grumbled. Hermione paled at his thoughtless words and he immediately regretted them. “I’m sorry Hermione, I’m sure Snape will be back soon.” She nodded mutely and Ron wished again that all their plans and preparations weren’t dependant on Snape’s intelligence-gathering abilities. Putting him in constant danger was wearing on all of them.

Well, maybe not Harry. He was curled up fast asleep in one of Snape’s gold chairs, his face utterly peaceful in sleep. The fact that Snape was out there possibly suffering under Cruciatus or being tortured did not keep Harry awake. Ron tried to be more charitable; Harry had the full burden of the prophecy on him. No one had been working harder or putting in longer hours than Harry had been. If anyone needed his sleep, it was Harry.

Hermione jumped to her feet and began pacing again, worrying her lip between her teeth. Ron could swear that he could almost see her tail lashing behind her these days. Ron thought she was spending too much time as a cat lately. Her trips to spy on Malfoy and company in cat form were quite wearing on her though she always came back exultant when some important piece of information was idly dropped in her hearing.
Snape seemed very proud of her and Ron admitted that he felt much the same way.

A rattling whoosh and Snape stepped out of the fireplace, already pulling off his mask and robes. Hermione was across the floor and into his arms in a flash and he embraced her with a softness in his eyes that would have reduced Neville to a catatonic state.

Harry woke at the ruckus and didn’t even blink at the sight of Snape with his arms around Hermione.

“Well?” Harry asked in a weary tone that alerted Ron to his friend’s emotional state more clearly than any spell could have. Snape replied, but voice was ragged and rough and Ron did not want to think about the cause of it.

“According to Voldemort, the key to the entire plan is some act of Malfoy’s” Severus k hik his head at Harry to forestall the next question. “No, Potter, I do not know what the act is specifically. All I know is that Malfoy is expected to choose the moment of attack and then depart to join Voldemort.” He shrugged, obviously exhausted and in pain. Hermione helped him to a chair where he collapsed trembling.

“Cruciatus?” Harry’s voice was almost gentle as he asked and Snape simply shrugged again as if it was of no matter. Harry nodded and then bit his lip in thought. He rubbed at his scar absently, a gesture of thought but no longer an indication of danger since Dumbledore had continued his Occlumency lessons.

“We will need to set up a round-the-clock Malfoy watch. We have been following him and watching already of course, but we will have to make it constant.” Harry mused.

“Constant vigilance!” Ron barked, startling the others who then dissolved into chuckles. Snape’s rather pained laughter reminded them of his injuries. Hermione ran off to his storerooms to fetch him the potions and salves that would allow him to function in class tomorrow.

Ron watched Snape as his hands shook and his fingers jerked spasmodically. Had he known years ago the kind of things that Snape endured for the sake of them all he would have kept his mouth closed and been more respectful. Right now he was feeling a sort of awe at the quiet forbearance Snape was displaying.

Hermione returned and began helping him drink down the potions, her slender fingers wrapped around his to steady the bottles as he drank. It was a quiet domestic scene and Ron knew that Snape would never have allowed him to help with the potions they way he allowed Hermione to. Not that he had much choice, Ron snorted inwardly. Hermione could out-stubborn anyone and even Snape was no match for her when she set her chin and frowned.

“We’ll need to set up a schedule for watching him.” Hermione sighed as she began to massage the salve into Snape’s trembling fingers. “Who will watch him at night though? He’ll be in Slytherin.”

“Blaise Zabini.” Snape said with his roughened voice. “He’s been on our side for some time.” This revelation made the Gryffindors stare at him in shock. Snape chuckled, a sound like rusty hinges squeaking rather than his usual chocolate mousse tones. “I don’t tell you everything, you know.” He gave them a smug smile and they all sighed.

“Slytherins!” Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. “Always have to have a secret!” The three students gave a disgusted look to their professor and he simply smiled back with an expression of angelic serenity.

The next night found them plotting over cups of tea and maps of the school. Harry was pacing back and forth and talking battle formations and strategy with Ron. Hermione was flipping through every book she could find on the history of the wards that had been cast on Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had gifted her with some books from the Headmaster’s personal library and she was feeling both awe-struck and overwhelmed by his trust in her.

At this moment she knew almost as much about the wards here as the Headmaster and had willfully incarcerated herself in the castle for the duration of the hostilities. With all this information in her head, she was too great a danger to the school to leave it.

Severus set a fresh cup of tea by her elbow and she reached absently to grasp it and pull it to her lips. She sipped and noted that he had put in just the right amount of sugar and cream and then she lost herself in the book once more.

“Hermione.” Those velvet tones caressed her and drew her from her preoccupation, like the tide was drawn after the moon. She peered up at him, her neck cramping from the angle at which she had held it for so many hours.

His nimble fingers, calloused from the years of preparing ingredients, began to rub her neck muscles, digging into the painful areas with deft skill. She groaned under his skillful manipulation of her flesh and felt tension and pain flowing away. He picked up a jar of something and began massaging it in as well and a strong smell of eucalyptus and something she couldn’t identify wafted to her nose. Her body responded to his ministrations by shutting down and flopping inelegantly forward onto the table.

“Don’t ever stop.” She mumbled trying to keep from drooling on one of the Headmaster’s rare editions.
Severus’ low chuckle woke portions of her anatomy that refused to lie dormant for long around him, despite the stern lecture she had given herself each time she had to come down here to spend time with him.

“An impossibility I am afraid, Hermione.” It could have been a sarcastic comment; she could see how once she might have seen it that way but his subtle sense of humor was familiar to her now and she simply sighed.

“What about mounting brooms for an aerial attack?” Harry asked and Severus snorted.

“Do you have any idea how easy it is to cast an anti-levitation charm, Potter? You would all be falling like rocks in a matter of moments.” There was a time that Harry would have bristled at the comment and more especially at the delivery but now he simply shrugged.

“Okay, we still need a way to alert people when it is all going to begin.” Hermione turned her attention back to the book and let the men get on with planning their strategy, she knew where her talent lay and it was in finding out the important facts that would keep them all alive.

Lavender was still not speaking to Ron in May. Two weeks of groveling, sending flowers and love poems, abject begging and public declarations had left her unmoved and Ron was beginning to despair. He had never meant to imply that he thought her ambitions in the cosmetic industry were less “serious” than his own desire to become an Auror and he did everything that he, Sn Har Harry, Hermione and Ginny could think of to convince her. However, having opened herself up to him in ways she had never opened up to anyone, Lavender was too hurt and frightened to let him near her again.

“I don’t know what to do, Harry. She won’t speak to me, she ignores me in the halls and I feel like a right bastard all the time.” Ron buried his head in his hands and felt a sort of agonized acceptance moving through him. He had messed it up and nothing he could do was ever going to fix this.

“I think that she is really over-reacting, Ron.” Ginny patted his arm from her place next to Harry.

“No, she’s right, I want to be rich and famous to make a name for myself and she wants that too. I should never have laughed at her means to that end.” Ron shook his head and let his shoulders slump. “It’s over, she hates me.” Ron groaned.

Hermione watched her best friend from her place on the couch and felt a great deal of relief that Severus wasn’t prone to the agonies and mood swings of teenage boys and girls. She herself had never been able to understand the moodiness and hysteria of her hormone-fueled friends, but she had always tried to be sympathetic to their needs. Ron had really blown it with Lavender; she was unsure of the details of the argument but he must have said something really thoughtless and cruel for her to go from adoring to cold in such a short time.

“Ron, maybe there ishinghing left to say to her. Maybe actions are the only language you have left.” Hermione suggested gently. Ron looked up at her and nodded slowly, his blue eyes dark and solemn.

“She has asked me to leave her alone. I will simply respect her wishes. I really love her though and it’s hard to not be with her.” Ron had a slightly bewildered quality to his tone as though he didn’t completely understand how it all went so bad from being so good. It made Hermione shiver. She sent a silent prayer to heaven that she and Severus would survive as a couple. There was so much stacked against love.

Even Harry and Ginny quarreled sometimes, though it seemed to only fuel their passion for each other. They would fight, yell, then kiss and make up with equal vigor. It was baffling to everyone else and Hermione wondered how long they could sustain such intensity. It looked exhausting from the outside.

She wondered if the letters and the long slow courtship with Severus wasn’t a good thing after all; it had given them time to get to know each other as people, to like each other as friends rather than just to jump into something physical. Not that jumping into something physical wasn’t on her to-do list.

“Harry! It’s Malfoy, he’s vanished!” Padma rushed into the Room of Requirement her black braids flying out behind her. The teens surged to their feet and looked back and forth at each other.

“When? Where?” Harry rapped out and Padma took a breath and collected herself.

“It was my turn to follow him. I took over from Neville an hour ago, he went into the boy’s bathroom on the second floor and he never came out. I waited half an hour.” Harry nodded and looked at Hermione.

“You know what to do.” Hermione nodded back at him and transformed into her cat form. Padma’s gasp of surprise was deeply satisfying to her and, smiling to herself, she took off at a run heading for the dungeons.

She skittered around a corner, her claws scrabbling for traction on the stone floors. Severus would be in the dungeons curled up with a potions journal no doubt. The hidden cat doors of the castle opened before her and mewing out the password she launched herself into his chambers and leaped up into his lap.

“Hermione?” Severus was obviously startled, though nowhere near as much as he was by her abrupt transformation, and the change from seven pound cat to hundred and twenty pound girl made an impression on him. He wrapped his arms around her and listened to her terse report.

“Malfoy’s gone. About a half an hour ago, he slipped out through the boy’s bathroom on the second floor.” He nodded and kissed her swiftly before pushing her off of his lap and striding to the fireplace.

“I will alert Albus, you get the Army ready.” He rapped out and then paused to look at her as she stood watching him go. “Be careful, Hermione.” His voice was tense with anxiety as he spoke and she nodded, wishing there was something more to be said. He grabbed a box from the mantle, the one that held his Death Eater robes and mask and she shivered at the sight of it. What if she hexed him accidentally?

“You too,” was all that came to mind as the reality of what was happening began to sink in. He tossed floo powder into the flames and was gone before she could say another word. His face had been enough though.
There had been a bleak fear etched on his featurhat hat told her more than any words how much he cared for her.

That task done, she transformed once more and took off for the next part of the plan.

Severus felt his heart contracting in fear as he was whirled away by floo network to Albus’ office. She was only seventeen and she was headed off to war; Merlin, keep her safe, he prayed.

He stepped from the fireplace and Albus looked up from his desk with an expression of surprise. Severus’ face must have been pitifully easy to read because Albus was up and moving before a word had passed Severus’ lips.

“I will call the Order.” Albus affirmed as he pulled a small mirror down from a shelf. Burning pain seared through Severus’ arm and he winced as his body contracted around the pain. “Go Severus, I will take care of it.”

Albus waved him away and he tossed more powder into the flames, stumbled back into the fireplace and was whirled away to the Shrieking Shack. Stepping out of the fireplace there, he pulled the box from his pocket, swirled on his robes, and placing the mask carefully on his face, he apparated to Voldemort’s side.

He closed off his heart and mind, calmed his thoughts and took on his role. With an eager pace he stepped forwards through a gloomy cavern, sunlight filtering only wanly through a cleft in the rocks far above, and fell on his face before the Dark Lord, crawling forward to kiss the hem of his robes.

Voldemort was sitting on a folding campstool, next to a folding table with a map of Hogwarts, with the other Death Eaters about him. His true face was hidden by strong enchantments and he now looked as he must once have. Black hair, sparkling eyes and a handsome face met Severus’ gaze. Knowing what one did about him, his false beauty was an abomination, an obscene hand gesture to celestial justice. Like the picture of Dorian Grey, he hid his evil and returned an angelic countenance.

“My Master.” He murmured in a servile tone.

“Severus. Excellent.” The Dark Lord gestured and Draco, still in his schooles, es, came scampering from the shadows his face a mask of vicious glee. “Draco’s strategic placing of certain items assures us that the wards on Hogwarts will fall in precisely one hour. Our time is at hand.” Voldemort’s words struck a chill in his heart, but Severus merely bowed.

Severus and the others had been drilling for an attack on Hogwarts for some time. They all knew what they were to do and how to proceed. As he stepped up next to Goyle, he felt a moment’s fervent gratitude that Lucius was rotting away in Azkaban.

A chill wind moved through the room and the Dementors arrived. They had been banished from Azkaban after last year’s debacle and had been roaming the countryside, killing and causing havoc as part of Voldemort’s plan to destabilize the Ministry and keep them running after smaller threats while he quietly built his army.
Outside somewhere he heard the rumbling steps of the giants arriving. Foul creatures giants, Grawp not included, he thought to himself, amazed that his mind could find something amusing through the horror that washed through his veins.

They marched from the cavern to the plain beyond to assemble. They would form up into parties and then apparate, each to their assigned position. Severus looked around at the warm spring day and watched a flock of birds winging away. He wished that he could wake tomorrow with Hermione at his side and admire the beauty of the season.

He pushed the unrealistic notion out of head and told himself to be grateful for the short time he had had with her. When he died, for most certainly he would not survive this battle one way or another, he would at least have the knowledge that she would mourn him, that for the first time in his miserable life, he was loved and would be missed.