capeandcowllogs | Now what you gonna do?

Entry tags:

Now what you gonna do?

WHO: The greasy wizard (

bestunrevealed) and the bushy-haired witch (

femininehermes)
WHERE: The City, not far from the MAC.
WHEN: Sunday, August 14th, Mid-Day
WARNINGS: Magic nerds.
SUMMARY: Hermione and Snape run into each other as Snape goes about doing work for both the fundraiser and his own efforts into getting the hell out of the MAC.
FORMAT: YES! YES! THERE WILL BE A FORMAT! HOW DID YOU GUESS?!

While he resolved to speak to Andromeda sometime in the near future, Snape found himself spending more and more time outside the MAC. He was truly loathing it there; it was high, bright, and so very Muggle. Plastics everywhere. Modern contraptions. It made him more uncomfortable the longer he was there, and he was reaching the point where he would haunt the city rather then endure it. Oh, he had to come back for various reasons, and he still slept there, but more often he was finding new places to be. Nill's church, for one, gave him haven.

This wasn't quite enough, however. He couldn't deny he was a man of routine when able; it was comfortable, helped guide his purpose -- which he lacked here and now -- and found coming short. Oh, Sally's company helped ease things a bit, and her business acumen was refreshing, but it was still short of the driving cause that had ridden him like a stallion toward hell's gates for the last near-twenty years. There was a difference between work and purpose.

It was with these thoughts in his mind that he stopped short at the elevator heading down from the MAC.

There was someone he knew on it. Immediately familiar, and apparently had found sense enough to change out of ... whatever it was she'd been wearing when she first arrived.

"Miss Granger?"

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Considering Hermione had been living outside for months, the MAC was heaven on...well...the city. Some of the very contraptions that irritated Snape made her feel at home. There had been a few times that she had picked up a phone and nearly dialed her home number. Of course no one would be there. In fact, it might be infested with Death Eaters or Ministry members. The house could have been demolished for all she knew.

Each time she remembered that, she would set the phone down and find something to distract herself. It wouldn't help her any to dwell. She had been doing enough of that when the Locket had been clasped around her neck.

Currently, however, she had decided to get some food for lunch. Eating at a leisurely pace was also a gift. Hermione was tired of bolting food and then running. Her stomach hadn't been properly settled since last summer.

When the elevator door opened and revealed a certain Potion's Professor, all thoughts of food left her mind. Blinking owlishly, she stepped back and eyed him warily.

"Professor?" she frowned, "Is everything...well?"

What else could she say? Despite her relatively calm tone, she was clenching her wand in her right hand just out of sight.

"...is it, Miss Granger?"

This is awkward. The elevator was about to close after another moment's spare staring, between the both of them. Then, even as it begins to creak toward closing, he puts a hand to the door, and triggers the sensor to draw it back.

He steps inside, and goes a -- polite, but still uncomfortable distance to the side.

"You are no longer wearing Bellatrix's rags, I see."

"I...don't know." Hermione was frowning at him without realizing it. But it wasn't an accusatory expression - rather, it was a speculative one. She was trying to determine if he had changed. There had to be some reason behind his actions since last year.

"I had to wear them." she muttered, rolling her eyes, "The Potion wore off."

Shifting her stance, she felt her bag brush against her hip. For a moment, the nasty thrill of possessing yet another Horcrux rushed up her spine. Recoiling, she grabbed the bag and steadied it.

"For which we are all grateful; two Bellatrix LeStranges in this city would be the death of someone, that's for cert--"

And then he stops, for she's shifting and that's brought that bag against his hip, and he feels something that he has not felt in the entire time he's been in the city.

The Dark Mark stirs.

He stops, suddenly, hand going to his left arm, and then, black eyes abruptly wild-- grabs at Hermione's bag.

"For the love of all that's good, did you bring one of those accused things here? You brought a part of him here?" he hisses, before he reaches out to trigger the emergency stop.

"I agree wholeheartedly with you on that. Though I wasn't very good at being her (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqUrLY674fk&feature=related)." she looked down at her still sore feet. Those boots had bruised her from heel to toe.

"Professor?!" her voice rose awkwardly and she fumbled to get her bag back, "What -!" she nearly lost her footing as the elevator came to an abrupt stop, "Professor, what are you doing?" her eyes widened, "You...know about them?"

Observing him quietly, she shook her head and held out her hand.

"It will affect you more. I'm...used to it by now." though that was a total lie, "I didn't have a choice! But I'm not sure if I should tell you the whole story." her eyes darkened, "It all has to do with why I Polyjuiced myself to look like Bellatrix."

Edited 2011-08-14 06:08 (UTC)

"Small blessings," he hisses. "You don't need to tell me anything. I know more then you do, Miss Granger!" He fixes her with a glance, and then says, "The silver doe was mine. But you will never speak of it. Ever. Do you understand?"

His fingers were still vicelike on the bag, and he shakes his head, still not relinquishing it even in the face of her calm persistence. "The Order still exists, girl, though it may be piecemeal. I cannot leave this in your hands. It must be protected. Were Belletrix to get a hold of it-- can you imagine what she might try to do? What rituals she would enact, trying to bring her Lord here?"

Hermione jerked at his harsh tone. But she wasn't deaf to his words. He knew about the Horcruxes, he had led Harry to Gryffindor's Sword, so he must have known about their mission!

"You never told him. Why?" her voice was quiet, "If you knew all of that, why did you keep it secret?" she softened faintly, "Did you make a promise to Dumbledore?"

Worrying the inside of her lip, she reached for the bag again.

"I am aware, but we couldn't rely on anyone but ourselves. We used the Sword to destroy the Locket. Well, Ron did. And, after we were dragged to Malfoy Manor, I stole some of Bellatrix's hair and made the Potion. That's how we got the second Horcrux. Or, rather, third Horcrux." she paled, "Sir, there are ways to destroy them. I have no intention of keeping that...thing...any longer than necessary. It's...horrible feeling his heart-beat." she shook her head roughly, "I can't let you endanger yourself. This was something Dumbledore meant for Harry and us to do. And, I promise, we will."

"Would he have believed me?"

Not until the end. Not until he was spilling his blood and bile all over the floor of the shrieking shack. Only then.

"Things were ending before your Sixth year began," he says simply, clutching the bag like a talisman. It is that man, once his Lord, and it drives him to distraction to know that he is here in any part. That he is here, where Lily and Harry are... even a terrible fragment of him!

But she has a point; he is --

He is too close.

He has been corrupted before, and while he has burned so much of that man, who he was before he went to the hilltop to beg Dumbledore's aid, away in the fire of adversity... He cannot trust himself. He cannot allow one small gap for that shame to be reborn.

Finally, he passes the bag to her.

"I must convene the Order; what remains of it. They-- they do not know. He only told... the one he could trust to see things to the end."

He only told Severus Snape.

Edited 2011-08-14 07:06 (UTC)

"Probably not." she had to admit, "So you...really are on our side." she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I have to admit, that is a relief. You are, by far, the most intelligent Death Eater."

By now, she has met most of those...lovely...people.

"His hand?" she had noticed it. Who wouldn't? Dumbledore hadn't been careful about hiding it at the Sorting Feast.

"Professor Snape, there is no reason why I would get close to Bellatrix again. She has already had her fun with me."

As she held out her hand for the bag, the word - Mudblood - carved into her skin became visible.

"I can keep it safe. Most people can't sense it." Hermione took the bag and quickly brought it to her side, "Do what you think is necessary, Sir." she smiled sadly, "It seems Dumbledore had a lot more planned out than we thought."

He looks at her a long moment; she'd always been clever -- and he cannot deny that it aggravated him. So much like Lily; Muggleborn, adept with magic, quick to pick up on small details. It earned his ire when she was quicker, however, to see the obvious. Lily had been a very clever witch...

Still, he had to admit: Hermione Granger outstripped her, just barely. He doesn't think on the whys behind that, merely pushes the whole thought behind him and hits the emergency button again to get them moving.

"Another Horcrux," he says simply. "I bought what time I could; the curse could be delayed, but not ceased. He was going to be dead before summer." That he manages to keep his voice steady through the recount is a wonder, even to himself.

But then the doors ding open at the ground floor.

"We need a safe place to speak further."

Despite how she behaved in her First Year, Hermione wasn't always sure of herself. That uncertainty has evolved and grown in certain ways, but it has never left her. She is a Muggleborn and she is at a certain disadvantage. But that has never stopped her. And it won't. Even if psychotic witches torture her and carve obscene words into her skin.

"He tried to destroy it himself?" she winced, remembering what Harry had said about the first Horcrux, "His soul...it's pure poison. We have all been affected."

For the first time since seeing him, she revealed her fear. Yes, Voldemort scared her. Yes, the Death Eaters scared her. Yet she would much rather put the burden on herself rather than anyone else - including Severus Snape.

"Any ideas?" she stepped outside of the elevator.

"Yes. Come with me," he says, and leads her off through the streets-- Nill's Church is not far from the MAC, but far enough-- and Bellatrix would never bother with a holy place like that.

He's also begun to fortify the place, after riots.

Once there he stops, paces for a moment, thinking.

"You carry it with you, at all times?" he asks, first, mind racing. Oh, Dumbledore; you didn't plan for this contingency!

Hermione nodded and followed him without a word. She kept her wand out and the bag tucked partially under her shirt. When they came to a stop, she glanced at him skeptically.

The church? Really? But she assumed he had his reasons.

"Always." she murmured, "It's not an ordinary bag either. I've put a number of Charms on it. And Accio doesn't work on them." she was choosing her words carefully.

By "them" she meant the Horcruxes.

Edited 2011-08-14 08:10 (UTC)

"Good. You've made it depthless, then?" he asks, stopping now and looming over her. "Of course not." He looks at her, trying to place what he knew of the timeline; once he had set them in motion with the sword, keeping track of thme in the swift evens that followed were difficult.

But he knows how it ends. She doesn't.

"This will be difficult. The Order that is here is mostly made of the previous version -- almost everyone is, at the very least, suspicious, and I have no Albus to assuage thme, or even Lupin and his trusting nature to play against." He pauses, and then adds, "Harry Potter returned to his home. It is unknown if he will return or no."

That's the risk they run in the city.

"Yes." Hermione felt the bashfulness from her earlier years surfacing. She couldn't help but strive to meet his expectations. Professor Snape posed a challenge and she was inexorably drawn to challenges.

"In this case, we can use some of his own Magic against him." she froze and stared at him in horror, "He's...left?" her voice was barely above a whisper, "I...didn't know."

Everything just got a lot harder.

"They..."

No, she will not cry.

"They might've united under him."

"He was from the end of the war. He knew-- everything," he says, not saying what everything might've been, but-- well, it sums it up nicely enough.

But then things start to go pear-shaped and Snape turns on Hermione, eyes aflash and his teeth beared in a snarl. "You will not, do you understand me, turn into a weeping child! Find that vaunted Gryffindor bravery, Miss Granger! You are the only person here besides myself who knows what your carry and it's importance, and worse-- the only person who can, at this time, possibly convince the rest of the Order that I am not a murderer or a Death Eater to the bone."

He cannot have his only ally in this mess cry.

It's undignified, for starters. Not to mention completely useless.

"I...have an theory about him and how it will end, but he didn't tell me anything." Hermione felt her eyes sting and her throat tighten. She was dangerously close to tears. But then he shocked her. Paling and then flushing, she narrowed her eyes in determination and gripped her wand tighter.

"You're right." she wasn't even going to apologize, "I will talk to them on your behalf. Surely they will see what I have. The clues have been there all along."

Yet people like to see what they want to see. She knows that too.

"Besides, you could have attacked me and taken the cup. You didn't." and that spoke volumes about his motives.

"Because Sirius Black is the very seat of reason and logic," Snape replies, lip curled in derision. Dear Hermione and er one downfall -- thinking the best of people. Worse, thinking they could reason like she did. "And the history between the Potters and I go further back then that."

Lily-- he could--

No. No no no no. Never. Never drag Lily into this. Keep her far from that thing which killed her, keep her safe.

Besides, her voice would be equally suspect. Tainted by years of affection for him. She'd been blind to him before, they'd think her blinded by joy at reuniting with her old friend Severus.

They very idea churns his guts, but it's the truth.

"Black and Potter may often be over-wrought, emotional fools, but they are, unfortunately, not stupid. They give me my due, Miss Granger, and know me to be smarter then the average Death Eater. They may believe you under Imperius or worse. The only one that would be above question... would be Harry himself."

And he is not here.

That comment earned a small smile. She has had her fill of exasperation over Sirius lately. He just...doesn't seem to care. Life, death and anything in between doesn't seem to affect him. In a way, that was refreshing. But it was really, truly unhelpful.

"I don't think you have to worry about that so much, Sir." she sighed at the memory, "How to break free from the Imperius Curse was something the fake Moody and Harry drilled into our heads. Everyone in Dumbledore's Army can withstand it."

Not that that was open knowledge. But it would help the situation.

"Besides, people under the Curse act a certain way, don't they? Almost...giddy?" she watched him for confirmation, "Ron and I are the closest everyone has to Harry. We'll have to do."

"Ron, years removed, adult, might... he might stand." That's good. The two of them, then, he might stand a chance of not being hexed to death by the time he gets to the part where he kills his only living friend.

He stops, now, and nods once. Ye.

This will have to do.

"You will speak to him; he'll -- take this better from you, I should think." Considering he's married to her, in some time or another.

"I'll contact him when I get back to the MAC." Hermione couldn't - and wouldn't - let any insecurities - or romantic feelings - interfere with moving forward, "I'll convince him somehow. He doesn't seem as hard-headed as he was the last time I saw him." she refrained from rolling her eyes.

It wasn't that long ago that she was mad at Ron. But, somehow, that didn't seem important anymore.

"Afterwards, I will let you know." she walked into the church and pulled her bag back out, "I do have something else of interest to you."

Edited 2011-08-14 09:54 (UTC)

He nodded once, gesturing-- yes, well, good, whatever. Wait, what?

He stopped, pulling himself from the muddle of thoughts that this turn of events had brought up.

"Not the Sword of Gryffindor, by chance?" he'd love it if that popped out of the bag; then they could just destroy the damn thing and bey done with it.

"I wish. We had to give that to Griphook." Hermione rifled around in her bag and pulled out...

Potion ingredients. Vials of them.

"There's some Dittany in here somewhere. We used some of it when Ron got Splinched."

Oh yes. Their journey has been grand.

It is like a tiny ray of sunshine just pierced the pall hanging over the church. Snape strides over rapidly, hands quick to pluck up items, examine each one -- so much! Compared to the nothingness he had here, beyond what Harry had managed to cobble together...

...it was like manna from heaven.

For a moment he doesn't speak, simply glad to have his tools in hand, intend on them, wanting to uncork, to inspect, but--

Manages to remember that this girl is his rare ally. He does not have the right to be cruel, in this moment.

"My gratitude, Miss Granger," he says, which is quite possibly the only nice thing he has ever said to her the seven years he has known her.

Once she had located the Dittany, which seemed to like to fall to the bottom of the bag for Merlin knew whatever reason, she finally looked up at him. The expression on his face nearly made her smile, but she didn't dare. She hadn't been able to make anyone very happy as of late. If seeing these ingredients was all it took, she would happily give them to him.

"Don't mention it." she reached into her bag again and grimaced, "I have a veritable library in here too."

Just as she said that, there was a loud thud - almost like a pile of books toppling over.

"And there they are." she winced, "I'm glad the cup is solid."

Did Christmas come early for Snape? Hermione doesn't look like a jolly fat man but it's the affect all the same. She's just told Snape she brought him books to read and potion components.

"You should likely find a -- new place for your books, just like the cup. We can deal with those as we go, however. As for the rest... if I can replicate some of them -- or better, grow from some of the seeds, items -- the apothecary--"

That'll be a reality. She's just handed him the last tools he needs-- outside a building and clientele -- to do something on his own here.

This is no small thing; Snape knows that. He stands there with vials and ampules and the hope that...

He might simply do something... for himself. This is a most novel thing. Not distracting enough, however, from the matter at hand: the cup, and dealing with it.

"I figure it's best to keep some items in here. It makes the cup harder to find." Hermione was politely focusing on rearranging the books and not watching him. As long as they're allies, she will do her best to stay in his good graces. If one can call not being taunted because of her appearance "staying in his good graces". All things considered, Hermione would even endure that if it meant they could keep Bellatrix away from the Cup.

Maybe her skin was getting thicker, after all.

"What..." the words were stuck in her throat, "What if he turns up? He could amass new followers and..." she looked pained, "I'd rather not think about it, but I feel like I should."

"There are only two Death Eaters here, currently," Snape says. "And one of them is myself." That will make-- certain things more difficult, though not just for Voldemort.

He touches his arm again and then says, "We would-- we would know, if he were here. We are bound." Foolish young men and their tattoos. Snape should have thought better about it, years ago.

But he didn't, and here they are now.

She gazed at his arm sadly. Despite all of her logic, Hermione was extremely empathetic. If he were anyone else, she might have chanced touching his arm or shoulder. But she knew better than to do that. He was always on his guard - as he should be.

"Don't group yourself in with them, Sir." her voice was quiet, "It won't be long before everyone believes you."

She was determined to make it so.

"Do not think you can lecture me about truth of anything; I made my choices and I live with them, unlike some people." Like, oh, James Potter and his wife. Except--here, they do. Awkward.

"But-- for now, let us take these things back to the MAC; we can decide on distribution and ... the rest, as we go." He can move potion components better in the bag, and then... well, she can go figure out how to get Ron in on things.

It seems like a sound plan of action for now.

"I wasn't attempting to lecture you. But it's true nonetheless." Hermione put the ingredients in her bag and nodded shortly, "I don't mind if you take the ingredients. I would like to keep some of the Dittany and we can share the books if you like." she was already moving outside of the church.

"We should take effort to duplicate the books," he says, as they walk. It would be invaluable, as things go -- shared knowledge is knowledge doubled... Well, if you weren't sharing with dunces.

"I've some items that Mr. Potter passed on to me, so that I could begin building anew here. What you brought is, however, straight from our world. It's exactly what I need to complete a few gaps beyond mere basic tisanes and elixirs." He can understand the need for the Dittany; it's a potent healing draught, one of the ones he's looking forward to recreating.

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