Home | Members | Help | Submission Rules | Log In |
Recently Added | Categories | Titles | Completed Fics | Random Fic | Search | Top Fictions
Drama

The Man Who Sold the World by Meggory [Reviews - 22]

<< >>

Would you like to submit a review?

Twenty



The Man Who Sold the World
By Meggory

Ginny walked ahead of Hermione, pushing low branches out of her path with an outstretched hand and climbing easily over fallen, mossy tree trunks. Only once did she glance back to ensure the older woman was still following her; when Hermione’s leg caught on an insidiously protruding root and she swore in frustration and pain, Ginny shot her a sidelong look that schooled her to silence. The moment Hermione righted herself and straightened, Ginny was off again, eating up the forest floor with quick, even strides. Trotting every few steps to ensure she did not lose sight of the red-haired woman, Hermione’s breaths soon came in sharp pants. With a final burst of speed, she caught up to Ginny and brushed her hand against Ginny’s shoulder. “Where are we going?” Hermione asked in a whisper.

If the other woman glared at her for speaking, Hermione’s eyes missed it in the darkness. “There’s a briefing tonight. I informed my superiors that you were alive, and they ordered me to bring you with me.”

“Your superiors?” Hermione inquired, feigning more innocence than she truly had a right to express.

“Maybe Snape didn’t tell you. I work for the URF. As a professor, I’m privy to accurate war updates and internal political movements. The school trustees don’t want the students hearing possibly false information, so we get news in order to quell negative rumours.” Ginny’s explanation sounded slightly absent as she suddenly dropped to her knees and began brushing dead leaves and needles off a lichen-encrusted boulder caught between two mature beech trees. “The War Council pays a premium for any agent able to root out a former member of the Order of the Phoenix, a former Auror, or any witch or wizard holding a Master title in applied magic.”

Hermione folded her arms over her chest haughtily. “So you’re being paid to bring me to your meeting?” she said flatly. Unbidden, the fingers on her right hand began to wiggle in anticipation of drawing her wand.

“Not in money,” Ginny replied. When the top of the boulder was basically free of debris, she took a step back and drew her wand. With a swift tap of her wand, the rock cleaved completely in half and created a space where it once sat. The beech trees bent dangerously close to breaking as the boulder pieces pushed on the boles. Ginny marched confidently to the space, and to Hermione’s surprise, suddenly appeared half a foot shorter. “It’s a stairway,” she explained, gesturing for Hermione to follow closely.

Not a small feeling of trepidation filled Hermione’s mind as she cautiously inched her foot forward. As her toes reached the clearing where Ginny stood, the feeling of solid earth disappeared from under her shoe. Carefully, she stepped down and found a wide, even stair waiting for her. Satisfied, Ginny turned and descended into the camouflaged passage. Hermione followed, and as the top of her head became level with the ground, the boulder halves above her slid neatly back into place.

If the forest had been dark, this passage was the epitome of obscurity. Hermione’s hands fled outwards in terror, hoping to find security in nearby walls. Ahead of her, Ginny said softly, “Lumos.” As if to compensate for the utter blackness of the stairway, the sudden glow emanating from the tip of Ginny’s wand was dim and soothing. Hermione still had to squint for a few moments before she could fully examine her surroundings.

The stairs ended not more than fifteen feet from the entrance and became a narrow, low tunnel that gently sloped up. Rough wooden beams broke the smooth dirt walls and ceilings at equal intervals. Two people could have barely walked abreast, and Hermione felt the ceiling was uncomfortably close to her head. Severus would have had to walk hunched over, if not doubled in half. The tunnel was dry, even surprisingly so, and the air was not as stale as she had expected. “Where does this tunnel lead?” Hermione asked, still not risking speech in normal volumes.

Ginny replied without turning around. Instead, she walked more quickly. “The Chamber of Secrets. It’s the only entrance into Hogwarts that no Headmaster after Salazar Slytherin ever knew about.”

The question flew from Hermione’s tongue before she could stop it. The question had to be asked. “How did you find out about it?”

Not even pausing or missing a step, Ginny said evenly, “Tom told me.”

Hermione did not need clarification. There was only one Tom that Ginny would speak of in that manner, and Hermione did not want details on the girl’s experience with Tom Riddle’s diary. The former know-it-all fell silent, and Ginny did not rush to fill the stillness.

The pair climbed steadily up in the tunnel, which sloped more steeply the closer it came to the castle. Hermione’s breathing was hitched by the time Ginny finally stopped in front of a small, mouldering door carved crudely with a snake coiled around the green copper doorknob. Ginny knelt down to eye-level with the little serpent and hissed something in what Hermione could have sworn was Parseltongue. A click sounded from the lock, and Ginny placed her hand on the doorknob. With a sharp twist of her wrist, she opened the door and stepped through.

Hermione followed with an increasing sense of dread and numbness. Where did Ginny learn Parseltongue? I thought it was an inborn ability--I didn’t know someone could learn it! Another bit of knowledge from Tom Riddle’s diary, maybe? She never did tell us what really happened. Her thoughts raced as her feet moved forward automatically; when Ginny glanced back at her, Hermione immediately schooled her mind to stillness. Severus had said she was a powerful Occlumens--Hermione suddenly had no doubt that she could match him in Legilimency, too.

Back to Severus. He had told her to be very careful around Ginny Weasley. A silent snarl formed on her lips. Did he know something else he was not telling her about Ginny? After all, he had only come clean after she told him she had overheard their conversation. But then again, she had not given him the chance to tell her himself. Damn it, Severus, she howled mentally. Whose side are you really on? Had she been a cat, her tail would be lashing around her legs fiercely as she stalked after the redheaded woman.

Now that the pair were deep in the bowels of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the air was chill and damp. The pungent odour of mildew and mouse droppings filled Hermione’s nostrils, and she nearly coughed aloud. So far as Salazar Slytherin was a clever, cunning architect for his impressive accomplishment of the Chamber of Secrets, his technique of waterproofing had not stood the test of centuries. The corridor they traversed was similar to the earthen one leading to the door, except this one was lined with dark bricks carved from cavern stone. The thin layers of mortar had crumbled away, leaving tiny, dark gaps between the bricks. Hermione did not dare reach out and brush her hand against this brick wall. There was certainty in her mind that the entire structure would collapse on her head. The bricks underfoot had also lost most of their mortar, but she suspected shifts in the earth below had caused patches to heave up unevenly. The toes of her feet caught the edges of some of these patches, causing her to stumble forward and nearly catching herself on the back of Ginny’s robes.

As if sensing Hermione’s unease, Ginny said over her shoulder, “We’re almost there. Just a little further.”

Hermione nodded but said nothing. Ginny had not been exaggerating; suddenly the low, narrow corridor widened into a high-ceilinged, circular and cavernous room. Draped over the elaborate sculpture dominating the centre of the room was the bleached skeleton of the basilisk. The glint of silver confirmed what she suspected--the bones had been wired together to create or continue its defeated pose. Despite the contempt for such a waste of time as assembling a basilisk’s final remains, a small part of her mind marveled at the size of the lizard. Harry had never been very specific about the size of his foe. Under the skeleton at the bottom of the carved marble, a small cluster of mismatched pouffes was arranged around a small school desk, complete with the bench for seating two students. Four or five people stood rather than sat on the pouffes as they chatted in low voices that did not carry throughout the enormous chamber. As Ginny approached, obviously with a stranger in tow, they fell silent and watched them.

Hermione did not recognize any faces in that solemn group. Ginny waltzed into their ranks as if she were a queen, and Hermione followed her with a smooth, flat expression. The Hogwarts professor slumped down into a hot pink pouffe that clashed with her dark red hair and motioned for Hermione to take a seat next to her. Gingerly, but trying to affect a posture of nonchalance and confidence, Hermione sank into the turquoise cushion to Ginny’s right, away from the desk. She tried not to feel the stares of the others.

Ginny, however, was completely at ease, even arrogant. “So, where is our charming leader? Late as always?”

“I was sending out the latest broadcast,” came a hard women’s voice from behind the central pillar. Ginny smiled to herself as a large, broad-shouldered figure marched into view. Black hair cut to flatter a square jaw made Hermione nearly gape in surprise. Millicent Bulstrode, clad in plain blue robes worn raw at the bottom hem, stopped at the desk, tossed a manila folder onto the surface and glared at the gathered resistance members. “Well? Sit down.” Suddenly her eyes fell on Hermione. “Who’s this?”

“A friend,” Ginny replied casually, but Hermione could detect a hint of challenge in her even voice.

Millicent narrowed her wide hazel eyes, but it was at Ginny rather than at Hermione. “And does your friend have a name?”

“Hermione Granger.” Hermione had, on some level or another, rather expected some sort of surprised whisper to run around the room. The others remained perfectly silent, but she could feel their eyes on her. She was, on some egotistical level, rather disappointed she had not made more of a ripple. Perhaps she would have to ask Severus for lessons on making an entrance.

Millicent, on the other hand, slowly took her seat on the bench behind the desk. “You’ve been officially declared dead by the War Council, Granger,” she said in a businesslike manner. “But we cannot have enough former members of the Order of the Phoenix. I am certain Professor Weasley will vouch for your security.” With this statement came a hard look for Ginny, who did not even blink under that gaze and its formidable suggestion of physical force. Millicent had been large and strong in school, and no feminine haircut could hide the power of those shoulders. “I assume Professor Snape is with you? We had reports from an operative that you two were travelling together.”

“Er, yes. But his mental state is questionable. I would rather keep him out of all this, if I may,” Hermione said quietly. Ginny glanced at her briefly, a cool look without betraying the thoughts behind her deep blue eyes, then returned her flat gaze to Millicent.

“Very well. Tell him I wish him well.” A flicker of fondness softened the premature tight lines around the former Slytherin’s mouth before she threw back her shoulders abruptly. Her face became hard and her voice returned to its former crispness. “I suppose I’ll have to change the weather report, what with our visitor. Anything that must be transmitted?”

Heads shook simultaneously at different speeds around the circle of pouffes. Ginny remained perfectly still as she managed to tilt her head at a perfect angle to watch both her colleagues and Millicent at the same time. Hermione felt as though she would pull a muscle in her neck at any moment the way she had to look back and forth at all the resistance fighters. They seemed to be schooling themselves to not watch her in return. With a shrug, Millicent flipped open the manila envelope on the desk and pulled out a long yellow sheet of foolscap covered with black writing in a neat and precise hand. “Very well, onto our main point of business. According to my source within London Headquarters, Regent Malfoy’s meeting with Emilian Ellery is still going forward as originally scheduled. Professor Weasley is in charge of coordinating our meeting with him. A member of the War Council will be here to initiate dialogue; we are supposed to make ready for her arrival by the middle of next week.”

As Millicent spoke, Hermione tried to memorize the faces of the people around her. The more she studied them, the more certain features tickled her memory or sparked an interest. At some point, most of these people had attended Hogwarts, probably while she was in the younger years. She did not know any by name, but it made her wonder how they ended up here. None of them was over thirty, or even twenty-five. Carefully, she filed their faces away into her mind.

A sudden, loud clatter from some adjoining chamber interrupted Millicent’s briefing. The brown-robed woman turned a glare on Ginny, who, startlingly, flicked her eyes downwards in castigation and rose swiftly from her pouffe. Hermione watched, pensive, as Ginny hurried away from the meeting and into the darkened arch of a doorway. Millicent rolled her eyes in disgust, but there was a tinge of sadness around her mouth. “Is there anything new to report?”

A young man with neat brown hair and haggard circles under his eyes pushed a pair of half-moon reading glasses up his nose and brought a note card with something scribbled on one side to his eye level. “Everything seems pretty quiet in Hogsmeade, actually. No raids, no new patrols. The garrison seems to be keeping to itself. No new or unusual activity out of the Shrieking Shack or the barracks.”

“Thank you, Hopkins,” Millicent replied with a nod of her head. A lock of hair fell into her eyes, and she swept it back with a practised hand. “Anyone else?”

When no one replied or even moved, Millicent closed the manila envelope and stood. “Very well. Dismissed. Next meeting as usual.” As the last sound fell from her lips, Ginny returned. Her cheeks were red, but her composure was icy. Millicent shot her a pointed look asking her a silent question.

“Everything’s fine. Just a little upset. Nothing to get excited about.” She glanced around at the rustling URF members, who were quietly packing up their things in silence. “We’re finished already?”

“Just like you said, everything’s fine,” retorted Millicent. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bit of rough waiting for me at the Hog’s Head.” A conspiratorial smile crossed her features briefly. “He’s just a corporal, but he has a fantastic bum.”

Hermione did her best to suppress the shudder willing its way to her torso and instead offered Millicent what she thought was an encouraging smile. The idea of “bum” and “Millicent Bulstrode” could not--would not--connect in her brain. Ginny, however, flashed Millicent what seemed to be a genuine grin.

“Have a lovely shag,” she said brightly. Once the Slytherin woman had disappeared from earshot, Ginny muttered under her breath, “God, I never thought I would see the day when Millicent Bulstrode gets fucked more than me.”

Not knowing how to respond to this entire situation, Hermione awkwardly patted Ginny’s shoulder. When her hand made contact with Ginny’s clothing, Ginny stiffened and pulled away. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the hut. It’s pretty late, and I’ll bet Snape’s worried about you.”

Hermione refrained from replying, “I doubt it,” and instead followed Ginny away from the circle of comfortable pouffes and back to the narrow, uncomfortably close-quartered hallway. She did not ask about Ginny’s sudden disappearance during the meeting; she knew the other woman would not answer her. The air of secrecy hung low and thick in this appropriately named chamber.

She dogged the younger woman’s heels back through the door with the little serpent and along the dirt corridor. This time the floor sloped downwards. She pulled out her wand called, “Lumos.” The magical light cast a long, dark shadow of Ginny ahead on the floor and walls. Hermione tried not to dwell on the appropriateness of the image as they stepped briskly towards the forest entrance. Her brain demanded that her tongue ask questions, but she kept her teeth firmly pressed together. There was no doubt that Ginny was aware of her desire to start a new Inquisition; she kept utterly quiet and did not even glance over her shoulder at Hermione. Long years at Hogwarts had taught her at least one thing: when Hermione Granger wanted answers, the best way to stop her was to ignore her. She would eventually run off to the library and leave you alone. Hermione’s mouth twisted with discontent at the thought. There was no library for her to peruse anymore. Her teeth now ground with frustration.

With her mind occupied, Hermione did not register that they had reached the stairs to the forest until Ginny suddenly stopped and whirled to face her. The youngest Weasley’s face was impassive and her voice smooth and cool. “I have to return to Hogwarts now. I have prepare my classroom for tomorrow’s lessons. Can you find your way?”

Hermione nodded. “I can.”

“Good.” She slipped past Hermione and began to retrace her steps up the corridor towards the Chamber of Secrets. After a few moments, all Hermione could see was the bobbing point of light at the end of Ginny’s wand in the distance.

“What the hell is going on here?” she mused in a whisper. With a sigh, she climbed the steps up to the forest floor. Before her head could brush the closed entrance, the smooth ceiling broke in half and pulled itself apart. She emerged wand-first, wary of ambushes and werewolves; as she stepped out onto solid ground covered with moss and leaves and needles, a rustle--not of the wind in leaves or branches, but the definitive whisper of fabric--reached her ears.

The automatic responses drilled into her mind and muscles by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks took over. She ducked behind the nearest cover she could find, the large bole of a birch tree, and listened carefully. Nothing, nothing--there! She poked her wand around the tree and called authoritatively, “Expelliarmus!

And from the dark, a familiar voice replied, “Protego!” A moment passed, and when no wizard’s wand came flying towards her, Hermione stood but did not come out from behind her shelter. “It’s only me, Hermione. Please come out.”

“Severus?” she replied without moving.

“Yes. Vasiliy told me that you’d gone off on your own, and I followed. After what happened, I was. . .afraid of what you might do.” Severus’ voice sounded normal, but he seemed to be almost walking on eggshells for her sake.

“What did you tell Vasiliy before we had our Potions lesson?” she asked innocently.

A slight chuckle reached her ears. “We had a lesson in Legilimency, Hermione, and I told Vasiliy to fuck off in Russian.”

A bit of tension eased from her shoulders, and she peeked her head out from around the tree trunk. Severus stood a few paces from the magic boulder, his hands at his sides and his eyes firmly fixed on her hiding spot. His face looked haggard and--anxious? afraid? Seeing him stand there, concerned for her, her earlier pondering on his allegiances dimmed to a muted knot in the back of her mind. Slowly, she approached him with the tip of her wand pointed unthreateningly at the ground. His gaze took her in from top to toe, and realising she was in the same physical condition she had been when she had fled, some of the lines disappeared from his pale face.

She scratched her earlobe and said, “I’m fine, Severus. I had a bit of an adventure with the URF.”

“Let’s go back to the hut, shall we?” he suggested. With her nod of assent, they began to amble back to their temporary home. He seemed unwilling to talk, so she described what she had seen and heard in detail. At first he looked surprised that she was relaying all this information after what had happened between them, but intrigue replaced surprise as she spoke.

“Oh, and Millicent says ‘hello.’ An odd choice for a leader, I would say.”

“Why, because she’s Slytherin? Because she was a bully? Or because you were unaware of her fondness for cats?” She glared sharply at him and found a tiny quirk of a smile on his lips. “Do not look so surprised, Hermione. Teachers are neither as stupid, nor as gullible, nor as ignorant as you gave them credit for in your youth.”

Dryly, she replied, “Indeed. I was going to explain that during school Millicent had been part of Draco Malfoy’s clique. And look where they ended up.”

“Miss Bulstrode is not a Pureblood. She is what they now call Impure I. Half-blood, like myself. She was unaware of this fact until she came of age, when her parents revealed that she had been adopted. I have strong suspicions her ‘friends’ forced her into her current line of work.” His voice became menacing at that point, and Hermione decided to change the subject a touch.

“I didn’t know you were half-blood,” Hermione said curiously, and immediately regretted it when he turned his formidable gaze upon her.

“But you dictated it to Librum for my false identification card,” he replied, his voice low.

She offered him a wavering smile. “I wanted to avoid attention. Being Impure I will ensure you’re noticed less than being Pureblood or Impure II. Maybe I’m just lucky. I did pick your birthday correctly out of a book, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Anyway,” Hermione continued, “I have reason to distrust the URF after tonight. I think they were trying to conceal what it was they were discussing without letting me know about it. There was a certain lack of precision in their discussion. They’re up to something important. And you were right about Ginny. I do not believe we can trust her, either. In fact, the only person I can trust at the moment is you.”

Severus stumbled a step, and she turned to face him with a calm and patient face. Shock altered his usually haughty features. “Why? With what you now know, how can I be the only one you trust?” His voice was still low, but with confusion instead of menace.

“Because you’re the only one being relatively honest with me, Severus. And now that is worth my trust,” she replied quietly. An awkward moment of silence passed before he bowed his head to her and continued walking through the shadows of the trees. Soon the squat figure of the hut appeared, and Vasiliy unfolded himself atop the stairs.

“What took you so long? I was very worried. Come, I’ve made tea.” The Russian man opened the door and held it as the pair filed into Hagrid’s former residence. Severus removed his cloak and hung it on a peg by the door; Hermione’s arms prickled painfully with the sudden heat and mentally berated herself for not putting on a sweater before she had fled. Severus pointed to the seat closest to the fire and put on his professorial face, demanding obedience. Feeling childish and slightly ashamed, she took the chair and rubbed her forearms briskly to warm them.

Once Vasiliy had fiddled with the tea things and all three were settled around the thick wooden table, Hermione quickly filled Vasiliy in on what had happened. “Ginny didn’t tell them that she knew your whereabouts, Vasiliy.”

“Suspicious, I would say, especially since she might have much to gain from that information. Perhaps she is not really working for this URF?” he mused as he dropped a lump of sugar into his teacup and stirred it with a small spoon.

“I’ve considered it. But if she’s only in it for herself, it could benefit her to tell them about you. She said that she was being paid for bringing me to the meeting, but not in money. She said something vague about being paid premiums for Order members, Aurors and Masters.”

“Perhaps, Hermione, we must consider the possibility that Miss Weasley is a double-agent,” proffered Severus.

“No! I refuse to believe that. No Weasley would do such a thing,” she protested, thinking about the Parseltongue and her intimate appellation of Tom Riddle--things she had kept to herself. Deep down there was a part of her that wanted to protect her school friend.

Immediately she realised her mistake. Severus pounced all over it. “May I remind you that Percy Weasley is a Death Eater officer who betrayed us all?” he said harshly. “The name Weasley is not synonymous with inviolability.”

“Don’t forget that Percy saved me from Malfoy. He’s not evil.”

“I’m not suggesting that Miss Weasley is evil. I’m merely suggesting that she has her own interests to protect in any way she sees fit. However, we may all agree that she is not to be trusted.” Severus took a sip of his strong, sweet tea and grimaced. “Brew it stronger next time, Vasya.”

“I’m not trying to sear my throat, Severus,” Vasiliy replied tartly.

“If we may continue?” Hermione asked, annoyed. Both Vasiliy and Severus gave her little ironic hand gestures to speak. “We need to find out who this Emilian Ellery figure is. Neither of you has heard of him?”

“We already told you ‘no,’” said Vasiliy.

Only the teacup cradled in her hands prevented Hermione from making a fist and pounding it on the table in frustration. “If only I could get into the library! I could find out who he is and what he does and why he’s important to Malfoy. Hell, I could find out the name of his childhood dog!”

“Tomorrow night I will get you into the library,” Severus said with a slow, genuine grin. “Miss Granger, I’ll even write you a pass for the Restricted Section.”


------------------------------------------------
Author’s Notes:
1) Oh, thank you all for your long-suffering patience! University has me firmly in its teeth, and unfortunately midterms and essays and papers and class readings take precedence over recreational writing. Oh, and I took three days straight to read Knife of Dreams by Robert Jordan. Sorry. I hope this long chapter makes up a bit for the long wait you’ve had to endure. We’re getting close to more fun and exciting action and adventure! Yay!
2) As for that tidbit about teachers, it’s true. If you ever talk to your teachers when you’re not their student and there aren’t any kids around, it’s a whole new ballgame. They know exactly who’s dating whom and a hell of a lot about your measly high-school dramas.
3) Next chapter: research in the library at night! Don’t worry, it’ll be more exciting than it sounds. But then again, I’m an English nerd. I think libraries on their own are exciting...







The Man Who Sold the World by Meggory [Reviews - 22]

<< >>

Disclaimers
Terms of Use
Credits

Ashwinder
A Severus Snape/Hermione Granger archive in the Harry Potter universe

Copyright © 2003-2019 Sycophant Hex
All rights reserved