Evening Schnapps

A/N: Howdy ho! Time for another chapter!

J.K. Rowling is the owner of all except specific characters, situations, and plot bunnies that are unique to this story. I make no money, but lots of satisfaction from taking out her characters and playing with them for a while before putting them back.

Many thanks to my ubber-beta SignoraAligheri, and my sweetie Evan! They just prove that you really can’t do anything in this world without people looking out for you.

So, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, and here we go!


Chapter 9

Severus stepped out into Diagon Alley. He made his way through the throngs of witches and wizards who were bustling up and down the path, loaded down with colorful packages for Christmas. The snow on the ground was dirty, typical of London in December, but it still reflected enough sunlight to hurt his eyes, so he wore the Muggle spectacles. He was aware of people staring at him and did his best to just sweep past them. Scowling darkly, he found himself wishing he were able to disappear as readily in daylight as he could in the night.

Finding his way to the shop he was looking for, he paused and reached back, guiding Miss Granger into the Apothecary. He strode forward and spoke with the owner. Taking two vials from the man, he silently handed one to her and drank down the other. He watched as the relief the potion provided from her hangover washed over her.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said with evident relief. “I must say it’s the little conveniences that I have missed so.”

Severus nodded and took back the vial. He handed the pair to the shopkeeper, together with some coins, and headed back for the door. As they walked back out into the Alley, he found himself vaguely uncomfortable around Granger this afternoon. The previous night had ended rather unceremoniously upon the completion of the bottle of scotch. She had simply moved over to the bed and fallen asleep on top of the covers, fully clothed. Given the circumstances, he could do nothing but the same.

When they had awoken this morning, somehow he felt more awkward than he had upon waking the previous two mornings, when he had been fully divested of robes and in the presence of an equally naked young woman. Somehow, it felt as if they were moving backwards. Almost as if they had shared a common intimacy that brooked the formality that ruled his life, and now that tiny glimmer of difference was lost. He had decided to continue to escort her until he could resolve the confusion he felt.

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Hermione walked into Gringott’s feeling a bit out of place in her Muggle clothes. She approached a goblin at one of the teller desks and straightened herself up.

“Hermione Granger,” she announced. “I wish to make a withdrawal and make arrangements for a payment in Muggle funds.”

The goblin looked her over with mean, beady little eyes, and finally reached down into locked drawer, retrieving her key that she had turned over before departing for the university.

“Very well,” the goblin glanced over to an assistant, “Vault 222.”

As she followed the goblin to the transport, she thought of the man following behind her.

When she woke up this morning, he was again sitting in the chair by the window, his hair was dripping wet. He had slept next to her the night before, she was sure of it. Apparently, he woke early and showered, as he had the morning before. As they readied themselves for their journey, she had told him that she planned on Apparating to Diagon Alley to run some errands prior to settling into Hogwarts, and asked about his plans. Snape had focused on her with his level gaze and suggested that, in light of the recent Death Eater attempt on her life, perhaps it was wisest for him to delay his return to his labs and escort her.

She had agreed, but even now as they zoomed along through the vaults, she wondered about the formality creeping between them.

‘Not that I ever expected a relaxed moment in his presence,’ she thought, ‘but he is more remote now than he was yesterday.’

They had Apparated directly from the hotel room that morning, and had arrived in London in the afternoon. She was thankful that they had skipped breakfast; the stress of the previous few days, when combined with the rather large amount of scotch she had consumed, had combined into a rather nasty hangover.

“Vault 222,” the young goblin announced as they arrived.

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Severus watched Miss Granger enter her vault and pick up a few stacks of Galleons. She did not have much in her vault and this withdrawal took a rather large percentage of her funds. He did not expect her to be wealthy, very few Wizarding families were. She was Muggle born, and he didn’t believe that she came from a wealthy family, either. Still, he was a little taken aback by the dim financial position she was in.

He started when she turned around and caught him staring at the state of her vault.

“Tuition and books are very expensive in the Muggle world, as are living expenses,” she said blushing a little. “It will be nice to have an income, finally.”

Severus looked down at her and scowled, “You overestimate the pay of a Professor.”

She looked up at him, frowning for a moment. Then, he was amazed to see her face light up in a broad smile.

“Well,” she laughed, “I never thought the Professors needed much, with living at the school and the wonderful food and all!”

He arched an eyebrow and felt a small curl form at one side of his lips.

“Well, I suppose the food is not too bad.”

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After arranging to have a few of her Galleons converted and wired to Gabriel, Hermione headed out to purchase a few things she would need to get settled into hew new job. First and foremost on that short list was a new wand to replace the one she lost in the avalanche.

She was more shaken at the loss than she was comfortable with. Even living in the Muggle world on a daily basis, she had always enjoyed knowing her wand was close by. It gave her a sense of confidence and balance. Having a powerful wizard like Professor Snape at her side helped her remain calm, but she was anxious to replace it and make sure that she never was without one again.

She looked up at her tall escort, “Ollivander’s?”

He nodded and stepped out into the crowds again. Hermione was able to just step in behind him, moving along in his wake.

‘Well, this certainly is better than fighting the holiday crowds,’ she thought.

They made their way through the afternoon crowds to Ollivander’s Fine Wands, it was where she had purchased her first wand, when she was just 11. They made their way inside the dark and quiet shop.

“Hello Miss Granger. I did not think to find you back so soon after the last wand I sold you.” Mr. Ollivander moved up through one of the cramped isles in his shop. “Vine and dragon heartstring wasn’t it? Your wand should have lasted you well into adulthood, and yet…”

He broke off and stood peering through pale and rheumy eyes at her, and Hermione found herself embarrassed. She had never really been confident enough to avoid blushing when being dressed down by an authority figure. She did feel just horrible about losing her wand.

Ollivander maintained his intense examination of her for a few more moments, before slowly nodding and moving back into his shop.

“Well,” he called from the back, “perhaps you could not have helped it. We must find you a wand that will stay with you, in the future.”

He came forward and handed her a wand. She picked it up in her right hand and muttered a spell. A lamp on the counter was transfigured into a slightly wonky looking vase. She frowned, because it wasn’t quite what she had in mind.

“Not to worry,” Mr. Ollivander called out as he climbed a ladder, looking for something else.

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Severus watched in silence as she tried several different wands. The results were same for each. Serviceable, to be sure, but none giving her the fine degree of control he saw her exhibit in the woods only a few days ago.

Finally, the old man had presented her with a wand that seemed to fit. It was slender, with no obvious handle, just a subtle sculpturing. Almost black, but with a deep reddish-brown sheen, the heavy grain swirled in tight whorls, it was thing of dark beauty. Severus looked over her shoulder, admiring the fine craftsmanship and beauty of the dark wood. Miss Granger tapped the rather ugly vase and it transfigured into the original lamp again. Then, without effort, she ran through a quick series of spells. He watched as the lamp became a clock, a cauldron, a peacock, and finally it became a glass of water.

“This is very nice,” Miss Granger murmured.

Mr. Ollivander bent over to pick up his sales book from under the counter, and there was a sudden commotion as an owl flew in through a window and delivered his mail. When the owl landed on the counter, it kicked up a cloud of dust that the elderly man caught in the face. Granger was in the process of summoning the transfigured glass of water to her hand when the owl landed.

Severus watched as the chain reaction unfolded.

“Accio-“ began Miss Granger, the cloud of dust hit Ollivander’s nose and he gave a violent sneeze, knocking over the glass of water, startling the young woman and interrupting the spell. The two stood staring at each other, when a commotion started in the isle behind them. A box rattled and thumped and worked its way loose from the crowded shelf, falling open and releasing the wand contained within. The wand vibrated in the air for a moment and then came soaring through the shop, landing in the left hand of a very startled witch.

Ollivander recovered from the face full of dust, and shooed the owl off the counter. He looked up and saw Miss Granger standing there with a wand in each hand. It was then that Severus noticed that the two wands were identical.

“Oh!” Miss Granger glanced up at him before looking back to Mr. Ollivander for an explanation.

The old man frowned. Finally, he began writing up both wands in his ledger.

“Miss Granger,” Ollivander began as he busied himself writing, “I have been making wands for so long, that I believe that I have mastered the finest elements. However, the only way to be sure of providing the finest, is to continue to explore alternate avenues. Therefore, I have been experimenting with new combinations of woods and cores. I have found evidence that there are woods that have been considered to be inferior, that are simply not seeing their potential, because of the cores they have been mated with. In this case, I found a specific core that greatly enhanced the black walnut burl wood that these wands are made from. The burl only showed limited magic, as did the core, but when they were combined, the union created a rather large capability.”

“Resonance,” Miss Granger nodded, looking up at Severus. “There is a correlation in Muggle Physics, when two waves of identical frequency and wavelength interact, their combined amplitude doubles, while their frequency remains the same.”

Severus frowned, again she was presenting him with information that he was unfamiliar with, but that seemed to hold a sound validity.

“Mr. Ollivander, what just happened?” Severus asked the man, hoping for some clarity within his frame of reference.

“Well, it has been my experience that the wand chooses the wizard, or certainly in this case,” glancing at the young lady, “the witch. The cores of these wands are two feathers given to me by a fine hippogriff. I tried other hippogriff feathers in many strong woods; vine, willow, holly, but the wands were always fairly weak. I had similar results with phoenix feathers, unicorn tail hairs and dragon heartstrings in the black walnut burls. However, when I combined the unlikely duo, the result was a fine wand.”

He sighed and held his hand out to Miss Granger, taking the two wands and laying them down on the counter side by side.

“These two came about on an evening when I was so focused on the curious nature of the combination, that I did something I have not done before. The wands are turned from the same piece of burl and the feathers are from the same hippogriff. When I discovered my error, I decided to keep both because each was perfect, and simply decided to wait a few generations between the sales of each of the wands.”

Handing back both wands to the witch, Mr. Ollivander looked back at Severus.

“You see,” he said softly, “I believe that the two wands’ bond is strong enough, that when Miss Granger’s summoning spell was interrupted, the wand chose to complete the spell, by summoning it’s twin. It is not something I expected. However, it is clear, both wands are destined to be with Miss Granger.”

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Hermione tried on several robes before deciding on a modest selection appropriate for teaching. She had donated her robes to Hogwarts when she decided to leave for the Muggle University. She had assumed that she would want new ones upon returning after graduation. She knew that Professor McGonagall would make sure some underprivileged young witch could make use of them. Going to school with Ron had made her thankful that, while she couldn’t afford the richest robes, she had started every year with a new set. If she could help save a young girl from the embarrassment Ron had faced, she could be proud of herself. While her robes were not new, they at least were not handed down through several children before reaching her.

“These will do fine Madam Malkin,” she said, turning to the witch in the distinctive mauve robes. “I would like to wear this set, but could the others be sent along to Hogwarts, along with my Muggle clothes?”

She caught Madam Malkin stroking the soft lilac fleece jacket she had been wearing.

Smiling, the talented designer looked up at Hermione, “Of course! I can have your new robes to you in the morning. Only…”

“Would you like to keep the jacket?” Hermione laughed.

“Oh,” blushing, the older witch nearly matched her own robes. “Well, yes, if only for a few days. This fabric is astonishing, and there are such possibilities here. Perhaps if you didn’t mind too terribly much.”

She nodded and waited while Madam Malkin wrote up her purchases. It had been a huge day. First waking up in the presence of Snape, for the third day in a row, then the long, difficult and taxing Apparition from the States to London. That was something that she never cared to try again. She hated flying, but Muggle planes weren’t too bad, when compared to brooms or hippogriffs. But an intercontinental Apparition was a thing indeed. There were only a few able to perform it safely, and while she was one of the few, it was so intense and draining, she preferred to fly on an airplane. It didn’t surprise her that Snape could perform that large of an Apparition; he always seemed to have reserves of power.

“Here you go, dear.” Madam Malkin handed her the bill. Hermione paid it, setting down most of her remaining funds. “I’ll send the others on to Hogwarts for you.”

Hermione nodded and waved as she walked out of the shop. Professor Snape joined her from the seats the robes shop had in the entranceway. She looked outside and found that it was well after dark. The errands had taken much longer than she had hoped. Her stomach growled loudly.

She heard a deep chuckle behind her. Looking back she found Professor Snape smirking at her.

“It is well after the dinner hour at Hogwarts,” he said, “and while the time change has shortened our day somewhat, we have not had a meal since yesterday. You are certainly showing signs of hunger. Therefore, I suggest that we retire to a establishment where we may find a meal.”

Hermione’s stomach emitted another loud growl. Blushing, she looked up at the dark figure that had moved up to her.

“Yes, dinner would be nice.”

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Severus sat across from the young witch who was an enigma to him. The day had become less strained as it wore on, and now they were once again enjoying meal together.

“Professor Snape,” she said as she took a sip of her water, “have you ever heard of a person having two wands?”

“No,” he shook his head, “not like this. Certainly some witches and wizards choose to carry a spare wand, but I believe that your situation is unique.”

The waiter brought their butterbeers. It was not his preferred libation, but after the excesses of the night before, he agreed with Miss Granger that something soothing and fit for children was the appropriate choice for the evening.

“Miss Granger,” he said slowly, “did you recognize any of the Death Eaters on the mountain?”

He watched as a shadow passed over her delicate features.

“I believe that I recognized Crabbe and Goyle Sr.’s,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he said nodding, “I saw them, too. However, I admit I turned to face you after recognizing them. I neglected to look at any of the others.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before she spoke again. “Professor, I think I spotted Fenrir Greyback in the group.”

Severus jerked his head up. “We need to contact your friends, if he was in the group that attacked Michael…” he trailed off.

She shook her head, “I asked Raf, when you were helping Michael. He said that none of the seven men had gray hair, or were that old. He never lost consciousness, and said that while they beat Michael to a pulp, they just used their fists and feet. No one bit him.”

Severus closed his eyes; he was greatly relieved that she had the presence of mind to follow up on this news while they were still in a position to react.

“Still,” he said, “can we be sure that they perished in the avalanche?”

She took a long sip from her butterbeer. Before she could respond, the waiter brought their simple, but filling dinners.

The smell of the kidney pies hit their noses and the serious conversation was forgotten for a few minutes as they ate. After the edge was taken off of their hunger, she answered his question.

“No,” she said quietly, “in all honesty, I can’t guarantee their deaths. However, I can say that their survival is highly improbable. First, they would have had to survive the initial slide. Then, they would have to have been able to dig themselves out. But, presuming they managed that, they would still have to cross through the wilderness.”

Severus watched, as the young woman seemed to struggle with something.

“The chances that they survived the slide are much better than the chances that they made it out alive,” she said, hanging her head, and picking at her napkin.

Severus took a bite of his pie, enjoying the savory brown sauce that clung to the grainy, delicate meat with just a hint of juniper, while studying the witch. She was behaving almost as if she felt remorse for their deaths. ‘This will not do,’ he thought.

“Miss Granger,” he began imperiously, hoping to shock her out of her doubt. “You did exactly what you had to. Make no mistake. If you had not acted as you did, they would have killed both of us. Your action is the sole reason we are sitting here.”

She sat, fiddling with her fork and pushing the remainder of her dinner around on the plate.

He waited for his words to sink in, but after several minutes, she was still held deep in doubt and guilt over taking the Death Eaters lives. ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘of taking any lives, her conscience would not feel the difference between them.’

Resenting the need to comfort someone in distress, but unwilling to let her mourn the lives of such evil men, who were there solely to kill her, he slid his hand over the table cloth and touched his fingers to the back of her hand. She looked up, startled.

“Miss Granger,” he ground out forcefully, “you need to understand that killing those men is no different than killing the Dark Lord himself. They were not innocent men. They were incapable of good or kind actions. They could have walked away from their past when their Dark Marks disappeared, but they chose to continue the war. Chose. Do you understand? Their lives were forfeit the moment they touched Michael and Rafael. Your actions saved at least two lives, maybe more. Do not allow yourself to strengthen their spirits by doubting the retribution you brought down upon them. You were justified.”

He watched as comprehension bloomed in her eyes. It was then that he noticed for the first time, that her brown eyes shone a bright copper.

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Hermione felt better. She was surprised at the warm fingers resting lightly on the back of her hand, but she was more surprised at the vehement words of support and encouragement that the Professor gave her. He was not polite, in fact his voice was angry and bitter, but she found the content of his words to be the balm that her heart needed.

She looked up at him and nodded.

“Yes, I know you are right Professor. It’s just, well, it’s just that even fighting by Harry’s side; I have never actually taken a life. I guess I just feel guilt over that, justified or not.”

She took a deep settling breath, setting down her fork; she took a sip of her warm butterbeer and set the bottle back down.

“Thank you, I appreciate your kindness,” she placed her fingertips over his as his rested on her other hand.

Professor Snape drew back his hand with a start and scowled.

“It’s nothing,” he hissed softly as he stood up from the table, “I just didn’t want to see you waste tears over such evil men. We should get back to Hogwarts, it is late and Headmistress McGonagall is undoubtedly wondering if you have accepted her offer.”

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A/N: Yippee, reviews!

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