Dark Lady

Chapter 8 ~ After Hermione's Little Visit

At the Daily Prophet, the printing presses were busily churning out newspapers for the next day. The headline read,

"Minister of Magic to Shortly Bring Death Eaters to Justice."

A wizard stood at the head of the press, watching the roll of thin, light parchment feed through the magical machine. It was inked several times, then cut and laid out according to page order. After that, the pages were folded in half, then the newspaper doubled over and transported to huge palettes. Another wizard bound them in stacks, making them ready for distribution. They would be magically sent to their destinations.

"I tell you what, John," the wizard at the head of the press called over the noise of the machine to the other employee. "This is real news, it is. Old Titwilder's going to be in office forever if he can pull this one off."

"Yer right 'bout tha', Bob. Goin' ta be a good day fer sellin', tha's fer shure. Better double the coun'."

Just as Bob was about to add another roll of parchment to the press, the door to the printing room flew open and several Aurors entered, with their wands drawn.

"By order of the Minister of Magic, this press is hereby shut down," one Auror said, pointing his wand at the printing press and stopping it.

"What's this? You can't stop the printing!" John cried.

"We can and we did. Now, leave the premises," the Auror ordered.

"We're not finished here. Does Mr. Cuffe know about this?" John demanded as the other Aurors walked over to the stacks of printed papers ready to go out.

"Oh, you're finished here, all right. Now, get moving before we lock both of you up for obstruction of justice," the wizard growled.

"You can't do that!" John hissed.

The Auror looked at him stonily. Bob walked up to his co-worker.

"I thin' he can, mate. Les' jes' go," he said, catching John by the arm. The wizard reluctantly let him lead him away.

The Auror closed and warded the door, then looked at the rest of his group.

"All right. Destroy every paper, every single one. The Minister doesn't want a single one released to the public," he directed.

They went to work.

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Rita Skeeter was in her bed sound asleep when her bedroom door burst open. She woke up immediately screamed when she saw three blurry figures enter and quickly pulled her wand from under her pillow, pointing it at the intruders.

"Expelliarmus," a male voice hissed, and her wand flew out of her hand.

"What do you want?" Rita cried as one of the men turned up the torches. Rita grabbed her bejeweled glasses off the nightstand and put them on as the Aurors recoiled.

Her hard curls were bound up in a kerchief and she had some kind of sickly green mask caked on her face so she looked a bit like an oddly colored minstrel, the areas around her eyes and mouth still flesh colored.

"Rita Skeeter?" one Auror croaked.

Rita scowled, which only made her even more unappealing, some of the mask cracking.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, uninvited?" she demanded.

"We're here by order of the Minister of Magic," the Auror replied. "We have instructions to Obliviate the interview you had with him yesterday. It will not be printed or made public."

"But—but why? And forced Obliviation is illegal! I know my rights!" Rita declared.

"Not when it comes to national security, Miss Skeeter. Obliviation can be used on individuals when sensitive information has to be—protected from the public."

"Humph. It's sounds to me as if the Minister has gotten into some hot water and is trying to protect himself," Rita grumbled. "But—the people have a right to know! Voldemort is dead and the Death Eaters are going to be brought to justice! That interview is news!"

The Auror pointed his wand at the witch.

"Not anymore," he said. "Obliviate!"

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Early the next day, Barnabas Cuffe shook his finger directly in Odius' face. He had made a beeline for the Ministry the moment he received complaints that the Prophet hadn't been delivered. He demanded to see the minister immediately. He had been ushered straight to his office.

"Odius! You had no right—no bloody right to enter the premises of the Prophet and shut down my press!" he snarled at him. "That's outright censorship! That's what it is!"

"Calm down, Barnabas," Titwilder said. He stunk of cologne he had liberally applied in an attempt to cover up the lingering odor of shit. It wasn't working.

Barnabas gagged.

"What is that horrid smell? Is that you?" he demanded, pulling a kerchief out of his inner robes pocket and covering his nose with it.

"Yes, it's me, and it's a long story. A spell that went wrong, all right? Barnabas, I had to kill that story. You will not print a word of that interview. The situation has changed. You will give me your word that what I tell you will not leave this office and will not appear in print in your newspaper, Barnabas, or I will have you arrested and the Prophet closed down indefinitely!"

Barnabas stared at Titwilder. Never in the history of the Daily Prophet had a Minister of Magic threatened the newspaper so directly. There had been a few confrontations, but nothing of this magnitude. Certainly no threat to have him locked up. He sat down, realizing whatever the situation was, it had to be serious.

"You have my word," he said through the kerchief.

Without divulging the true nature of his dilemma, Odius weaved a tale of intrigue and ongoing investigations that could be severely curtailed if any information were made public through the Prophet at this time.

"I promise to give you another story, Barnabas, as soon as we discover Miss Granger's motives. I have a feeling they are benign and reparative and I don't want to publish bad press about her. She's—she's going to be an ally."

"But yesterday, she was little more than a criminal," Barnabas said, his eyes narrowed.

He smelled more than the minister here, that was for certain.

"I spoke too hastily. I met with Miss Granger, and we came to an understanding. That's all I can say on the matter. It is imperative that NOTHING is said about this," the minister reiterated.

"The Death Eaters will say something," Barnabas told him.

"It will be hearsay until it is corroborated by the media," Odius responded. "If it gets too out of hand, I will simply issue a statement saying we are investigating the matter. That will give us a little time."

Barnabas studied him.

"All right. I've given you my word not to publish the interview, Odius, but don't you ever send your Aurors to my newspaper again. Do you understand me? Or you'll find yourself in the midst of a media war and I will make it my business to ruin your re-election campaign, even if I have to print the newspapers bootleg out of my home," the editor growled.

Both men looked at each other with narrowed eyes.

Odius didn't like being threatened, but the Prophet was a powerful newspaper. He didn't want to tangle with Cuffe. He could get nasty in print.

"Next time, you will be contacted first. It's just that the hour was rather late," he assured Barnabas tightly

"I don't care how late it is. That's my paper you're fucking with."

Barnabas stood up.

"And for gods' sakes, man, take a bath!" he hissed, hurrying from the office.

Titwilder scowled after him for a moment, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

As far as Hermione went, his hands were tied, and tied well. All he could do now was wait to see what the Dark Lady would do or demand next.

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Snape awoke to find a small chest of Galleons on his nightstand, along with written instructions by Hermione. He was to immediately go find the medi-witch she had injured and give her the money for reparations.

He was not to fail. That part looked as if it had been written in blood. Snape frowned.

He had classes to teach today, but had a feeling Hermione cared nothing about that. He knew she wouldn't be pleased if he didn't do as she asked immediately, and a displeased Dark Lady might be ten times worse than a displeased Dark Lord. He wasn't about to risk that. As soon as he dressed, he went to see Albus.

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"It appears Hermione is more demanding than Voldemort," Albus said with a frown after Snape told him of Hermione's instructions. "Even he didn't interfere with your teaching schedule."

Snape nodded.

"Yes, but my relationship with him was supposed to be clandestine, so he worked around my schedule so we wouldn't be discovered. Miss Granger doesn't have that complication. She is quite open about herself and my role, Albus. I fear if I don't do as she asks, the punishment will be just as bad or even worse than with Voldemort. She is merciless."

Snape then recounted the take of Liath Greyman's tutelage of Hermione. The Headmaster was horrified.

"A demon? She gave a portion of her soul to a demon, Severus?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Yes. But in time, her soul will regenerate. However, when that occurs she will lose her demonic powers and become an ordinary witch again," the Potions master said.

"Hermione Granger is a lot of things, Severus, but ordinary has never been one of them," Albus said softly.

"I agree. But her soul will only regenerate with positive reinforcement, feelings of kindness, empathy and—love. It's clear she plans to avoid feeling these emotions for some time. I believe that is why she didn't come to see you, Headmaster. The emotion wouldn't be conducive to keeping her powers."

Albus nodded.

"So, she has to maintain wickedness to be effective. Interesting. Of course, Severus, it will be in our best interest to help her along in the process of regaining her humanity. Although Voldemort is gone, and Hermione will not be targeting Muggle-borns or trying to take over our society, we will all be much safer if she is restored. Evil can become addicting and her immersion in it could have grievous results."

Snape blinked at Albus, his stomach tightening. He knew what was coming next.

"Severus, you're going to have to be the one to help her come back to us. You're going to have to make her feel those things that will expand her soul," the Headmaster said.

"Me? Me, Albus? Surely you can't be serious. I'm naturally lacking in those areas, and I have a full soul," Snape said softly. "I've never inspired kindness in anyone."

"You're just going to have to work on it a bit, old man. I have complete faith in you," Albus said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Snape sighed. He was in for it, and knew it.

"Very well. But this is just as dangerous as dealing with Voldemort. It could be Miss Granger will destroy me if I elicit anything positive in her," Snape said bitterly.

"I don't believe that will be the case. Hermione has already shown that you will have preferential treatment, Severus. I imagine that added a little something to her soul. She may not act as quickly or deal as harshly with you as she would anyone else. She said you had suffered enough," the Headmaster responded.

"But she's a woman. Women are terribly fickle at times," Snape said.

"Follow your instincts. Use your powers of observation. You'll know when to push forward and when to withdraw. It's ingrained in you."

Like my scars of service, Snape thought, frowning slightly. Then he stood up.

"I must go, Headmaster. Please don't use Professor Binns for my substitute. He leaves ectoplasm all over my good swivel chair, and it's the devil to remove," he said.

"I won't, Severus. I was thinking Sybill could use a bit of time away from the North Tower," was Albus' response.

Snape let out an aggravated sound. Sybill Trelawney? Good gods, she was almost as bad as Binns. Well, maybe she'd attempt to brew something and blow herself up. One could always hope.

"Very well, Headmaster. First I'm going to go to the Ministry library and look up the name of the medi-witch and find her address or place of employment."

"Very good, Severus. Good luck, my boy."

With that, Snape exited Albus' office.

"There goes a brave wizard," Albus said softly as the door closed.

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A/N: Well, I started on this again, but it was difficult going. This is the first HG/SS I've written since moving into my new apartment. It took a lot of effort and I felt museless. Still, I had to do it. I hope you found it interesting. Thanks for reading.