Snape's Redemption

Chapter Three – Arrival of the Bee Box

Hermione was perplexed.

Here she was, in Professor Snape’s house, being treated like an esteemed guest. She had been ushered in, dried off with a quick swish and flick, directed to the couch, offered some refreshment (which she now held in her hand) and without one sarcastic or derogatory comment being cast towards her. She was beginning to worry that she had found a polyjuiced dupe to trick people into believing that they had found Dumbledore’s killer while the real one was ensconced safely at the right hand of Voldemort almighty. Or more likely the left hand. Yes, Severus Snape was more of a Lucifer than a saviour. So why was she here?

“I believe you would be more comfortable if you released the death hold on your book-bag, Miss Granger.”

His voice seemed to wrap itself around her, its seductive tone one she had only heard twice before; his opening speech about the beauty of potion making and his opening speech about the power of the dark arts. Feeling suddenly warmer, Hermione quickly downed the contents of her glass.

Severus Snape watched with amusement as the young woman in front of him suddenly started coughing and wheezing. Obviously she had never encountered Firewhisky before. While she was occupied with breathing, a small swish of his wand sent the Pensieve into a hidden cupboard behind the bookshelves. He then poured himself another glass of wine, charmed it so it looked like Firewhisky, and then used the other bottle refilled his guest’s glass.

“No… thank you,” Hermione gasped as she saw him filling her glass.

“Nonsense, Miss Granger,” Snape replied, still being polite and speaking in that low, seductive tone. “You might not relish the taste, but this will be good for you. It is an old northern cure for being caught outside on a cold, wet, summer’s eve. However, I suggest that you sip it, rather than skull it. Unless, of course, you are referring to my suggestion that you place your bag on the floor?”

Wide-eyed, Hermione complied with both suggestions. Her bag was carefully placed on the floor next to her and she took a small sip of the liquid in her glass, relieved to find it went down smoothly this time. Relaxing slightly, she sat back on the couch, abandoning her perch on the edge. Snape smiled slightly.

“Now, Miss Granger, I believe you are dry and comfortable, are you not?” She nodded. “Then perhaps you would be so kind to inform me when the Aurors will be arriving. There are certain items of great sentimental value here which I would not appreciate them pawing over.”

“Oh no, sir,” interjected Hermione. “I haven’t told anyone where you are. I mean, I only just found you anyway and no-one else was interested in finding you. Well, they were, but not for the same reasons that I wanted to find you, so I didn’t tell anyone that I was even looking for you. I thought maybe Tonks would help, but Remus sort of convinced her otherwise and Harry and Ron….” Here she trailed off, remembering the last looks the boys had thrown at her.

“And what would those reasons be, Miss Granger?” Snape’s question snapped her out of her recollections.

Hermione twitched her head, took another sip of her drink and raised her eyes to meet the black, impenetrable depths of his.

“We need you, sir.”

“We, Miss Granger?”

“The Order of the Phoenix, sir.” At his raised eyebrow, Hermione took another sip, marvelling how much the liquid was warming her stomach. It must be alcoholic, she decided before she continued on.

“Harry needs you to teach him Occlumency. He can’t hide anything from anyone. You know what he’s like, sir. And Remus, he needs the Wolfsbane Potion made for him. Tonks is worried that his transformations seem to be worse since he’s spent all that time with the werewolves. And Professor McGonagall needs you to help convince the Governors to keep the school open. And…”

“Miss Granger,” Snape interrupted, carefully placing his glass on the table next to him before picking up the bottle of Firewhisky and, once again, refilling Hermione’s glass. “I do not believe that any of those you have mentioned wish to have me back. You must remember, surely, that I, quite recently, murdered the leader of the Order? Or did that little fact slip your mind?”

Hermione took another sip of her drink, noting that sneering, sarcastic Snape had briefly taken over seductive Severus. Severus? She looked around for somewhere to put her glass, but the rickety table was full with the two bottles and his glass. Frowning at her own glass, she tipped the contents down her throat and placed it, empty, on the floor.

Snape immediately swooped forward, plucked it off the floor, refilled it, and handed it back to Hermione.

“An answer, Miss Granger?” He prompted, amused at her bemused expression. Obviously Miss Play-it-by-the-Rules Gryffindor had never indulged in strong spirits before. Three small shots and she was quite gone.

“Well,” she replied slowly, trying to organise her thoughts, which appeared to have turned into drunk butterflies. “Is it murder if he asked for it? In the Muggle world, that’s called Ooth… youth…Euthanasia. Oh,” she suddenly giggled. “I get that joke now. Youth in Asia.”

Professor Snape cleared his throat and, once again, raised his eyebrow.

‘He should stop that,’ Hermione thought. ‘It’ll fly off his face, one day.’ And she laughed out loud before taking another sip.

“So,” Severus drawled. “You believe that Albus knew I was going to kill him and in fact asked me to do it?”

“Yep,” asserted Hermione, waving her hand emphatically and spilling the rest of her drink onto the sofa. Snape Accio’d the glass and placed it on the table. “Harry told us all about it. Ferret wouldn’t kill you, but the Headmaster was dying from the potion in the Cave…”

“Cave?” Snape questioned sharply.

“Cave,” Hermione repeated. “You know, where one of the Horcluxes… I mean Horcrux was. And you wouldda told him about the breaking oath you made with the mum…”

“How did Potter,” Snape spat the name out, “know about the Unbreakable Vow?”

“Sluggy’s party! You know, I had bruises on my breast from that! Bastard,” she mumbled, remembering McLaggen’s rather forceful courtship. “Should’ve done more than Confunded him, I should’ve..”

But Snape had tuned out and Hermione rambled on about the various hexes she should have utilised on her erstwhile date.

He realised what a prize he had before him. She obviously knew a lot about Potter’s involvement with Dumbledore and the contents of the “private lessons” Potter had been receiving. This was just getting better and better. Severus Snape was truly beginning to believe that his luck was starting to change.

“Miss Granger!” Snape’s voice cut through her musings. Hermione raised her bleary eyes from her hands and focussed once again on him.

“Miss Granger,” he continued, his voice now cajoling. Hermione unconsciously leaned forward towards him. Snape smirked slightly. “Do you have any idea what happened in the meetings between Potter and the Headmaster?”

“Oh, yes,” she asserted brightly. “Harry told us everything. All the memories about Tom Riddle, and the prophecy and what the Horcruxes might be. Headmaster Dumbledore said that he needed us to help him, like back in first year with the Stone.” Suddenly, she collapsed back onto the couch and dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. “But it’s not like that. You can’t go back. They don’t listen to me. No-one ever does…”

Suddenly, another pair of hands covered her. They had long, aesthetic fingers which were slightly callused, catching against her skin as they rubbed reassuringly across the backs of her hands. Her eyes flew up to find Professor Snape kneeling before her, his eyes gazing searchingly into hers as his fingers continued to roam over her hands and then slowly up her arms.

“Miss Granger,” his sibilant hiss filled the air between them. “I will always listen to you. I need your help, too. You were right, right about everything. But I need a vow from you that you will do everything in your power, to help me.”

His hands were now up on her shoulders and his fingers made small, seductive circles against the bared skin he found there. Hermione’s tongue peeked out and wet her lips.

“Oh, of course, sir. I’ll do anything to help!”

“Stay here,” he gently commanded. “I’ll be back shortly.”

He quickly poured her a glass of the elf-wine, charmed it to look like her previous drink, and handed it to her. He needed her to stay drunk enough that she didn’t question what she was doing, but sober enough that she was able to function and not pass out. Needing to find something to distract her and keep her occupied, he spied her book-bag next to the couch. Picking it up he was surprised to find a copy of Advanced Potion Making inside. Deciding to give her a potion to memorise, he flipped through the pages and stopped.

It was his.

All his old work encased in a new cover. But not just his work. No, there were other authors evident in that book. He smiled slightly. So this is what had brought Miss Granger to him. Excellent. The fates really were shifting in his favour.

Closing that book, he summoned another one.

“Miss Granger,” he said in his old teacher\'s voice as he handed the opened book to her. “I need you to study this potion and memorise it. There will be a test when I return.”

With that he swirled around and, with a swish of his wand, disappeared upstairs through the hidden doorway.

Hermione noticed none of this. She was busily reading over the instructions on how to make the Wolfsbane Potion. She just wished the words would stop jumping around the page.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Severus re-entered the room, leading Draco by the hand, to find Hermione passed out on the couch, drooling on his book. He barely repressed the urge to snatch it out from under her and smack her over the head with it. Instead he turned to the young wizard, gently placing his silver Death Eater’s mask over his ruined face and returning him his wand. The damaged boy took it and gingerly waved it through the air, causing sparks to fly out of its tip.

“Remember, Draco. All you have to do is hold the wand to our clasped hands.” Pulling out a bottle from his robes he held it up in front of the young wizard. “Then you will be able to sleep again.”

Draco nodded, but Severus did not believe that the boy understood what was happening. At least he wasn’t whimpering anymore, Snape thought, relieved. Waking the destroyed soul from his dreamless sleep had been harrowing enough without having the agony of his cruelty perpetually recalled by the intermittent moans of ‘mother’.

Leaving Draco in the middle of the room, Snape strode over to Hermione and pulled the book out roughly from beneath her cheek.

“Oh, Professor,” Hermione blinked owlishly. “I’m sorry – I tried to learn it but the letters wouldn’t stay still. Can we have the test later?” She smiled up at him hopefully.

“Miss Granger,” Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just get up and over here would you?”

“Of course, Sir,” she replied, eager to please. Until, that is, she saw the Death Eater standing in the middle of the room. She opened her mouth to scream, but Snape slapped his hand over her lower face.

“Not a sound,” he hissed. “He will be gone as soon as we have spoken our Vow.”

‘Vow,’ thought Hermione fuzzily. “What Vow?” she asked aloud.

Snape hissed through his teeth. “Miss Granger, just do as I say! Kneel down there!” He pointed to the space in front of Draco.

Hermione obeyed, her brain still sluggish. Snape knelt opposite her and grasped her right hand in his. He then reached up, and moved Draco’s wand to touch their joined hands.

“You must answer ‘I will’ after each of my pronouncements, Miss Granger,” Snape commanded.

She giggled. “Sort of like a marriage ceremony!”

He glanced sharply at her, and her giggles subsided.

“Will you, Hermione Granger, promise to do anything in your power to help me?”

“I will,” she replied as a tongue of flame shot out from Draco’s wand and wrapped around their entwined hands.

“Will you, Hermione Granger, ensure that you will say or do nothing which will interfere with my endeavours?”

‘That was a bit broad,’ she thought. “I will,” she answered aloud as another tongue of flame shot out and inter-linked with the first.

“Will you, Hermione Granger, tell no-one of our interactions until this whole sorry business is over?”

‘What business?’ she thought foggily. Confused, her hand moved to pull away, but Snape’s clasped hers more firmly.

“I will,” she said, “now let me go!”

“Not yet,” he replied as the third tongue of flame shot out and twisted with the others, making a rope around their hands. It flared brightly and disappeared.

Snape stood and removed a vial from his robes, handing it to Hermione. “Drink this,” he instructed. “I need you sober.”

He then put his arm around Draco’s shoulders and led him from the room via the secret door. Hermione watched bemusedly as the bookcase slammed shut. Then she turned her attention to the bottle in her hand. Removing the cork, she swallowed the contents and was immediately clear headed once more.

“What have I done?” she whispered to the empty room.

A/n – Arrival of the Bee Box is a poem by Sylvia Plath.

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews!! The really do keep a writer going (personally, I never actually believed that until I started writing BUT ‘TIS TRUE, ‘TIS TRUE).

Also big sloppy kisses to my wonderful alphabetical Betas (who are all so quick) Clara Minutes, GinnyW & Griff.