A Terrible Temptation

A/N - Um, no actually last chapter was exactly how I intended it. This is Hermione\'s story, not Harry\'s and the Voldemort thing is all about Harry. I am telling a love story between two people during wartime, not a war story. Sorry also that there is no lemon this chaper - having been in combat zones and having lost people I cared about I am going for a slightly more realistic scenario. I gave you all lots of lemony goodness in An Easy Job and I will write other smutty goodness in the future, but while there will be sex in this story, it isn\'t the main course, sorry. Thanks to Kate for her continuing support and ruthless editing of my less spectacular word choices. : ) Now, if she could just write another couple of chapters of Teacher, teacher, I would be ecstatic!


Chapter 39 – From the Ashes

Severus was kneeling over the last of the boxes when he felt it. It was like a cloud lifting from his mind and he ripped the buttons off of his coat as he struggled to get his sleeve up. There was his skin, bare and pale with no trace of the tattoo that had marred his life for so long. He felt himself tearing up and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. There was a faintly lighter area where the Dark Mark had been but that was all. He was free.

“You were right Miss Mintage, we did win this one.” Her jubilant screech and the way she tossed herself into his arms laughing made perfect sense and taking House points off for lack of decorum seemed silly at a time like this. Severus didn’t realize that he was crying and laughing as he clutched the child to him until much later, when he discovered the tear tracks on his face.

Ginny was sobbing, collapsed on Neville’s chest and he was patting her gently and soothing her. Hermione spared them little thought as she ran to find Harry and Ron. She dodged through the dazed combatants; the Death Eaters were fleeing with the rest of Voldemort’s loyal servants. The Giants were aimlessly trying to kill wizards now and each other as well. The Dementors were being driven away and the dragons were burning many of them to ash; their hideous screeching made Hermione’s head ache and throb.

She crawled up an incline and at the summit found herself looking down at a scene she knew she would never forget. Harry was standing with the forest at his back, the sun was just touching the surface of the lake far off to the side, making it glint and sparkle. At his feet was a pile of dirty robes with a skeletal hand reaching up beseechingly towards him.

Beside him stood Dumbledore, McGonagall, Tonks, Moody, Ron, Lavender, Hagrid and Luna. Harry was staring at the corpse of his enemy with a slightly dazed expression.

Survivors began to straggle in, by ones and twos, until soon a far smaller group was standing there then had stood there five hours ago. The able-bodied survivors who gathered looked at each other in both horror and relief -- horror at how small their number was, relief that there were any at all. They were mostly silent and then as one they turned to face the school and began to march back.

Voldemort’s corpse was left there for now. They had more important things to worry about.

The Ministry arrived an hour later, to no one’s surprise. They looked rather shocked and disarrayed and the news they brought was almost as extraordinary as the news they received. Fudge had refused to send aid and a frantic Arthur Weasley had led an internal coup to dislodge him and get help to Hogwarts.

Like a swarm of bees, the ministry workers and Medi-wizards and witches from St. Mungo’s swarmed across the battlefield apparating away with the less badlyuredured or healing in the field those who were in desperate straits. All those who had fought and then been doing what they could to heal were being gently shooed aside to let the professionals work.

Feeling utterly useless, Hermione sat on the front steps and hugged herself tight, watching Severus as he moved among the surviving Slytherins. A surprising number had remained loyal to the school and he was there for them now.

With Voldemort gone, his face seemed younger and less lined, there was more bounce in his step and his eyes seemed warmer, the bleakness was fading away.

A very young Slytherin girl was following him about, cheering up the older members of her House. She was a plain-faced girl but her eyes were bright and lively. Hermione wondered idly who she was. Every now and then Severus would glance at Hermione and she would nod back at him. She was okay, help them first, she tried to tell him with her eyes and he seemed to understand.

Ron and Harry dropped down beside her and soon the remaining soldiers had gathered in a small group, numb and dazed by the sudden lack of anything for them to do. They were all in shock, a part of Hermione’s mind told her; looking out at the white sheets that were scattered across the field, she blessed her numbness.
Justin Finch-Fletchley and his warrior Hufflepuffs looked somewhat green but there was also a quiet satisfaction in them. No one would speak ill of their House after this. The Badger had turned and everyone knew it.

Miss Smith sat down beside Harry and grinned up at him.

“We did it.” She said her voice soft and gentle, but with that hint at the back of it that she could get nasty if the situation warranted it.

“Yes, we did.” Harry grinned back at her and dropped an arm across her shoulders. There was among that tiny band of brothers and sisters an unspoken understanding that Harry might get the credit but that it had taken them all to do it in the end and no one knew that more than Harry himself.

The next few weeks were crazed and Hermione hardly saw Severus at all. Between dealing with his sadly reduced House, the constant nightmares they were all having with the notable exception of Miss Mintage who was enjoying her first uninterrupted sleep in years, and the whole faculty being required to help repair damage, reassure the public and talk to the Ministry, he was kept running.

The remaining seventh-year students had been given the option of being passed on their N.E.W.T.s or sitting them and they had chosen unanimously to sit the exams. The whole school had been given the option of going home with a passing grade or staying and finishing their classes and only two had chosen to leave -- both Slytherins who had been forced to kill Housemates.

Hermione knew on some level that they were clinging to some semblance of normality, pretending that their world hadn’t been altered irreparably by the battle. The empty places at the table that first meal had been horrible, like accusatory ghosts. The next morning the tables had been shrunk to fit the reduced number of students. It was almost worse, but not quite.

People began to break open over time. Someone would start sobbing in the halls, falling apart as their internal defenses finally crumbled, and classmates would wrap them up and hold them until it was over. It was becoming a common sight.

Hermione dreamed every night. Susan Bones’ death would replay over and over, Draco’s contorted face as he was dragged off to Azkaban, the skeletal hand held out to Harry, all the images of the battle crowded into her undefended mind as she slept.

“’Mione?” Lavender’s whisper woke her from another nightmare. Hermione had fled her Head Girl’s room to sleep with the other girls in the dorm since the battle; being alone had been too much for her.

“Lav?” She mumbled.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny looked up frightened from her own bed. She had been moved in with them as she was the only surviving Gryffindor girl of her year. Both Patel twins were dead so there was room for her in Parvati’s spot.

“Nothing, can’t sleep.” Lavender replied, trying to calm Ginny. Since the battle, something had broken in Ginny; she jumped at loud noises and couldn’t stand to argue with anyone. Her relationship with Harry had become strained and Hermione could see the younger girl cracking apart. Hermione wished for the thousandth time that there was a Wizarding equivalent of psychotherapy because if anyone needed it, it was Ginny.

“Go back to sleep, Ginny, it’s okay.” Hermione got up and smoothed Ginny’s sheets, tucking her back into the bed as if she were a small child. The younger girl blinked up at her and then returned to sleep.

“When are you going to take care of yourself the way you take care of us?” Lavender asked with an expression of grave concern on her face.

“I take care of myself.” Hermione blinked in surprise at Lavender’s comment.

“Eating, drinking, sleeping and studying are all you do anymore, that and taking care of the rest of us like a hen with only one egg.” Lavender retorted and Hermione sat on her bed and tried to think about the last time she had taken a long bath or done anything simply for pleasure. The answer startled her: not since before the battle.

“You are right. Tomorrow I will change that.” As if her grief were just waiting for that declaration, the walls came down and the shock wore off. She began to sob brokenly and Lavender held her and rocked with her while the Head Girl fell apart.

The tears were coming but they didn’t stop. She was in so much pain and there was so much death, she heard Lavender saying something but didn’t know what it was and the tears would not stop. Ron and Harry’s voices came from somewhere and she thought she heard someone screaming and wailing; it couldn’t be herself because she was the strong one, wasn’t she? Part of her mind was telling her that she was hysterical but the rest just keened on and on.

Then the one voice she always associated with true safety was there. Warm arms surrounded her and the smell of herbs was in her nostrils and she felt calmness returning. Severus held her and she clung to him and felt the pain starting to recede. He was rocking her like a child and she was clutching the front of his coat with her fingers in a grip so tight it was painful.

With the effort of her entire mind, she slowly pried her fingers loose from their death grip and slipped her arms around him.

He was sitting on the bed with her draped across his lap and her head on his chest. The gentle rhythm of his heartbeat was like a lullaby and she fell asleep, worn out by the power of her emotions.

Severus held her as she slept and his eyes met Potter’s over her shoulder. The boy was wide-eyed and obviously shocked by Hermione’s loss of control. Miss Brown looked far less surprised and Miss Weasley had fled the room to hide; Ron had gone after her.

“Will she be ok Pot Potter asked, his deep concern for the girl in Severus’ arms readily apparent. Many replies occurred to him varying in their anger and cruebut but he bit his tongue.

“How long has she been holding all this in?” He asked instead, wanting to kick himself for imagining that she was being well cared for by her friends and Housemates while he was pre-occupied with re-ordering Slytherin House. He should have known that she would be too occupied with caring for them to care for herself.

“Since that day, sir.” Miss Brown was giving him a speculative look and Severus surmised that Ron had not broken his confidence even to his girlfriend, though the cat was well and truly out of the bag now.

Crookshanks leaped back up on the bed, now that the noise had abated and came over to sniff Hermione.

“You at least, should have had more sense about her.” Severus scolded the half-Kneazle, who promptly began cleaning his rear end in Severus’ direction with jaded nonchalance. Severus nudged the rude animal with a toe and knocked him off of the bed.

“Something you want to tell me, Harry?” Lavender pinned Mr. Potter with a glare that would have incinerated lesser folk. Harry had however just faced down the most powerful evil wizard in fifty years and lived to tell the tale.

“He loves her, she loves him and you aren’t telling a soul.” Potter replied, equally fiercely, and for the first time in his life, Severus Snape laughed at something a Potter had said. He looked at the young man who was regarding him in shock and smiled.

“Well said, Potter.” Severus’s words made Miss Brown’s jaw drop open in amazement and for the first time in Harry’s life, he grinned at his dreaded Potions Master in genuine amusement.

“Thank you, sir.” It was a time of firsts indeed, Severus thought as the boy looked at him with a calm seriousness. “Thank you for everything and I am sorry for how I behaved before.” There was no hesitation in the gratitude or the apology and Severus felt something deep inside of him letting go.

“You are welcome, Potter, and your apology is accepted.” It was not quite as good as having James say it, or Sirius, but it would do for him. It would do.