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Drama

Just to Be by Amarti [Reviews - 6]

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Two chapters posted today, folks; both this chapter and the previous one. Enjoy.

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Severus's appointment as the legal guardian of all fifteen orphans went relatively quickly and smoothly. He supposed he had Potter to thank for that…again. Maybe Granger. Both worked for the Ministry and both were close with Kingsley, who had ensured that the proceedings were expedited and sealed.

Thank Merlin for small miracles.

Now all he had to do was inform the children that they would be moving. Permanently. That would not go over well. The ones who had left permanently never returned to visit. He hadn't had the heart to tell them where they really went. As far as most of them knew, they were at Hogwarts, and not allowed to write.

He hated himself for lying, hated himself because he knew they would find out eventually and hate him for it. Severus had never minded being hated in his life, really. But right now he was the one person these children did not hate, and he was dreading the day that it would change.

The older ones, the ones he visited at the brothel or in Azkaban or on the street, would accept his help and compassion but he could see, feel, the resentment they felt toward him. His lack of warning. How they hadn't known how to survive outside the orphanage. Even though he had prepared them as much as possible for Hogwarts—the politics, the houses, the rules, the schedules—none of it mattered once they were bullied or harassed and chased out of there. Or expelled for turning their wands on other students. Hogwarts officially had a zero-tolerance policy for hexes and curses between students (a policy created in the aftermath of the war) but seemed only to enforce it against students from certain backgrounds. Not officially, of course. His graduates just seemed to be the only ones ever caught with their wands in hand. And they always made the mistake of healing themselves in private, rather than go to an authority figure.

Severus sighed.

And Minerva had always seemed so fair-minded to him in the past.

Not when your House is involved, the voice said.

------------------

Moving house was more difficult and time-consuming than Harry and Ginny had anticipated. They had finally found a new place to live that offered space, comfort, and, above all, privacy. It was all ready for them.

Then James Sirius Potter decided to come a bit early. Moving would be put on hold until he was a little bit older and Harry and Ginny had begun to sleep again.

Everyone might have expected Molly to mother them all after the birth, but as had been the case with her other grandchildren, it was simply too much for her to do anything but visit and coo and leave. Fred's death, Bill's injury, the way that all her children had been injured physically and psychologically by the war… it had finally broken her.

---------------

The transition was… difficult, to say the least.

Potter and his wife and their new dependent eventually moved out, leaving behind the furniture for Severus to transfigure according to his needs. He had duplicated and resized the beds, magically enlarged the bathrooms and duplicated the toilets and showers to resemble that of a dormitory and accommodate more than one person at a time. He had dimmed the lights and changed the colour of the walls to a darker shade. Turned the upstairs library into a classroom. Removed the Black family tapestry; it would only upset them to see their parents on there.

It was exhausting, but Severus figured it was finally at least livable.

And then the most arduous task had begun. He had met with both Longbottom and Lovegood. When Granger had first mentioned it, he was ready to hex her right then and there for suggesting that Longbottom, in all his incompetence, be allowed around these children. His children, now. And Lovegood… there were no words.

However, despite his misgivings, he decided they were at least competent enough for his purposes in the short-term. There was some initial awkwardness and hesitancy and outright stupidity on their part, but he finally determined that as incompetent as Longbottom was with potions, he knew enough to teach young children the basic pre-Hogwarts subjects. A brief discussion with Minerva had confirmed that Longbottom was well-liked by the students.

Despite having lost his parents to Death Eaters at such a young age, Longbottom had reacted like Potter. He had seen through the parents to the plight of their orphans, and was moved by the fact that they had no extended family to turn to. Since Herbology had become an elective course at Hogwarts, he was only teaching part-time in the mornings, and agreed to come relieve Severus of his teaching duties in the afternoon. Severus still vowed to keep an eye on him.

Lovegood… he wasn't sure what on Earth her story was, but he was satisfied that she, too, could handle caring for his charges at least some of the time. She was a researcher and had taken over the Quibbler after her father's death (he never did make it out alive from his encounter with the Death Eaters in his home when he claimed to have Potter) but had also done a surprising amount of training in counseling. Like everyone else, she was able to see past the parents to the children, whom she accurately characterised as misunderstood outsiders. Probably because she had always been one herself.

He also found her to be very insightful. Uncomfortably so, in fact.

"I can see why you address everyone by their surnames," she had mused during their discussion. "It separates you from them. That's why you insist on never, ever using Harry's name, isn't it? So you can continue to consider him and his father collectively as just 'Potter' and therefore one in the same in your mind? And then you don't have to admit that Harry is more like his mother than you would care to remember?"

It was as if she had never set foot in one of his potions classes! No fear! He had nearly Obliviated her brain to, well, oblivion for it. But he came to his senses quickly enough and decided that as long as she did not turn her attention to him, this sort of insight could actually be quite valuable for the children. She agreed to come in on weekends. She had offered to come more often, but Severus felt this was all he could handle of her.

There was still a matter of finding a healer, and after reading the books Granger provided he had considered even bringing in a Muggle psychiatrist, but for now this would have to do. He didn't know what was more disconcerting: that he had foisted Longbottom, Lovegood, Granger, and Potter on his charges, or that this was a marked improvement over their present circumstances.

As much as a depressive as Severus was, it was too sad a decision to make.

Potter had hosted a fundraiser for the adoptive parents and legal guardians of the Ministry orphans. He appeared at so few events previously that it attracted a lot of media attention and, therefore, money. Severus had more than enough funds to last for the foreseeable future.

The children had been terrified to take the portkey. The orphanage was all they knew, and even though he had done his best to assure them that they would all be staying together and that no one would be sent away, it had been a bit too much for some of the younger ones. Those with older siblings had been comforted by them, but Severus still found himself having to reassure a few children as they cried in fear.

He had held them and let them cry on his shoulder. A secret he would take to his grave if he had anything to say on the matter.

After the government-issued camp beds and threadbare blankets they had been used to, the children gaped at their new four-poster beds and duvets and multiple bathrooms. Many of course had come from money, but these were the youngest of the orphans, the ones least likely to remember. They mistrusted all of this. They were sure there was a catch.

Yes, Severus had a gaggle of future Slytherins on his hands, a fact in which he found immense relief.

But the nights were definitely the worst. The wailing. The crying. The nightmares. They seemed to be worse in this new environment. Severus knew it was mostly transitional, that once they realised that they were even safer here than they had been at the orphanage, they would begin to relax and trust their surroundings.

At his request, his new "professors" would not start until he called them, and Granger and Potter agreed to stay away for the first few weeks. Potter was apparently busy with his new child and Granger, well, Granger was probably available but he didn't want her here yet. So far they had owled him occasionally to ask him how things were progressing, but beyond that they had left them alone.

They had done exactly as he asked without putting up any resistance.

It was infuriating.

What were they playing at, exactly?

After about three weeks, Severus decided he had enough and owled Granger to come over to meet them. He had sneered at her quick and over-eager response.

---------------

Hermione fancied herself a "woman of the world." She had seen a lot in her young life, and prided herself that very little could still shock and move her. Then she had been proven wrong with her little foray into Knockturn Alley a couple of months ago. Surely, she thought, that had been the worst of it. Plus, she had seen these children before. Meeting them properly would probably be much easier; Snape would have given them plenty of warning about her and told them that he trusted her and that they should, too. The may even want to talk to her.

Once again, associating with Severus Snape had completely undermined her thinking. At least this time, she suspected this had not been intentional.

He had gathered everyone in the sitting room on the ground floor, which he had magically enlarged and had duplicated the sofas and settees so that there was plenty of room for everyone. The children had sat there… wooden. Vacant. Afraid. She had never seen such fear in children before—and she had gone to school in the middle of a war, a time in which it was not uncommon for a student to be pulled out of class to be informed of the death of a close relative.

She supposed that it was due to the fact that they were painfully aware of their isolation, that they maybe even knew how unwanted they were by the rest of the world, and that in their experience, every new stranger had been a potential enemy. Hermione briefly wondered what Snape had done to earn their trust. He claimed it was the faded Dark Mark scar on his forearm. Hermione was still not sure whether she believed that.

Snape had informed them in a much gentler voice than Hermione had ever heard him use that Miss Granger was safe and to be trusted, but that if she ever did anything unusual, they knew what to do. Hermione guessed that there had been an earlier meeting about her in which he gave them instructions on what to do if she harmed or threatened any of them, most likely to come to him.

She hoped to God that she would never give them reason to do that.

Today was meant to be a bit of a meet-and-greet; she would introduce herself and merely observe everyone in the common area to evaluate the situation, give them time to adjust to her presence around them, and help Snape determine what he needed from her and the others. A bit like her auditing job, really. She had agreed to sleep in her room, since Severus had informed her he was planning to check in with some of his "graduates" after they went to bed. Hermione did not ask specifically who or where, because she honestly did not want to know.

She was told in no uncertain terms that she was merely there as a warm body in the event of an emergency, to stay away from their bedrooms at all times, and that he always left a Patronus with the children when he went away, which would alert him to any sort of problems. Hermione figured he could probably respond more quickly than she could, but it was probably safest to have two battle-hardened wizards on hand, and at least one in the house at all times.

Hermione observed the children from the far corner as they… well, play wasn't the right word. Gathered. They were all very clearly bonded with one another; as the youngest orphans, they had spent the most years and greatest proportion of their lives at the orphanage. They had seen their siblings and friends disappear to Hogwarts only to disappear again. They sat quietly and talked. Didn't really draw, didn't really write, didn't really read anything. They didn't start games of gobstones or wizard chess or even show an interest in any of Harry's old snitches. They didn't seem to want to play games with each other or complete any homework. They just…were.

She made a mental note to ask Snape if this was typical or even an improvement on their prior conditions. When she did, while they ate and she could speak to him outside their hearing, he had sadly replied that yes, the interaction was an improvement.

"Previously it had been more like a rugby huddle—clinging, not really talking, just sticking together," Snape said. "That they are willing to sit in a room, apart from one another, not huddled in a great cluster, is fortunately, or unfortunately, a vast improvement."

"We have our work cut out for us, don't we?" Hermione asked. Snape nodded.

After dinner, he set the children reading and told Hermione that there would be no need for her to do anything but observe them from the corner. He walked upstairs to the master bedroom, where he had set up his office space, and shut the door gently. It was such an un-Snape-like gesture that it startled her. She figured that she wasn't the only person in the house who jumped at loud noises.

She looked over the group. The had each taken a book appropriate to their reading level and had settled on the couches. Siblings cuddled up together to read, older siblings helping younger ones sound out words. It did not look effortless; many of them seemed to be struggling. Particularly the little brown-haired, blue-eyed girl sitting alone on the couch nearest Hermione. She spent a great deal of time on each page, sounding out each word, and making little huffs of frustration.

Hermione didn't know what possessed her to do it, she had never been a teacher herself and had very little experience around small children, let alone those with trust and anxiety issues, but she stood up and made her way slowly to the girl and stood about five feet away from her sofa.

"May I sit here?" Hermione asked. The little girl looked up, startled, and said nothing. Hermione did not fail to notice that fourteen other pairs of eyes were watching her. Taking her lack of reaction as permission, she gingerly sat on the far corner of the sofa so as not to frighten the girl further.

"My name is Hermione," she said softly.

The little girl stared at her for a long time, seemingly deciding whether to respond. Evidently deciding that this woman was probably safe (Mr. Snape said she was) she replied softly, "Margaret."

Margaret. Mulciber. Daughter of one of Voldemort's most feared and loathed Death Eaters. A nine year old girl who looked like a china doll. According to the records Hermione had read, Margaret suffered from severe panic attacks and night terrors. Swallowing in order to avoid reacting to the name, she replied, "What are you reading, Margaret?"

Margaret hesitantly showed Hermione the title of the book. Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll. Hermione smiled softly. "That's a wonderful book. Are you enjoying it?"

Margaret considered what to say. She did not want to admit to the lady that she was having a very difficult go of reading it, but at the same time she really wanted to know the story. Mr. Snape always told them to never let an enemy see your weakness. But this Hermy-nee person couldn't be an enemy, could she? Mr. Snape had left her alone with them, and he always stayed in the room with other volunteers, at least at first. It was scary to imagine it, but this lady was probably safe. No one with brown eyes that soft could be dangerous.

So Margaret shook her head. "I'm having trouble sounding out the words," she said softly, averting her gaze to her lap in shame.

Hermione wanted to reach out and touch the girl, but realised that was probably a bad idea, not least of which if Snape found out. She really was trying to obey his guidelines; she knew he did not leave people alone with the children very often and took their safety and security lightly. At the same time, it was hard for her to sit idly by and watch a child fail to discover the joy of a good book.

She found herself saying, "Would you like to read it together? I can read out loud and you can follow along with the words on the page. Maybe if you hear the words and see them written, it will come more easily to you."

Does that even work? Hermione honestly couldn't remember how she had learned how to read. She knew she had been an early bloomer in that regard. She knew her parents had read to her though, so it must have done something.

The little girl hesitated for a very long time, then nodded slowly. Hermione reached out her hand and the girl recoiled, but Hermione only said, "For the book." The girl hesitantly handed it over then snatched her hand back, as if Hermione's outreached hand was a snake waiting to bite her.

"If you want to, um, move a bit closer, we can both see the words," Hermione said. The girl froze. "It's alright, I can start reading, you can move if you want, or stay if you don't want." Clearing her throat, she turned to the beginning and began to narrate softly.

-------------------

Severus sighed and added another folder to the growing pile. Upon his appointment as legal guardian to the youngest ones, Minerva had been kind enough to forward the disciplinary records of all past orphans at Hogwarts in order to inform him of the troubles his current charges would most likely face. They were bad and sadly typical of the last few years. Fights between students. Waking up to find scorpions or tarantulas in their beds. Their shoes charmed to slip on the ground whenever they took a step. With a grimace he considered that any of these records could have been his at school.

There was heavier stuff, too. Other students cornering them in quiet, forgotten areas of the castle, spitting in their faces and calling them Death Eaters. Telling them that their parents were dead or Kissed (usually true information) and that they would be next because they deserved it. Beatings in retribution for lost family members. Theft of what few personal possessions the children brought with them.

But worst of all had to be the attitudes of the staff. Most of the staff had equated Slytherins in general with Death Eaters, something that the general Slytherin population seemed to resent (understandably). They treated these students in particular as guilty until proven innocent in just about everything. If one of them gave a wrong answer in class, they were given detention. Points were docked left and right. Any students struggling were not only not offered help, they were usually punished worse for it.

Severus knew he was more guilty than most when it came to playing favourites as a teacher, and had punished children unfairly for who their parents were (Potter in particular; Granger's words had strangely hit home) but at least he never stooped so low as to actually prevent a student from learning. In his experience, they usually did that on their own. He knew his children, they would not try to not learn something. He blamed the staff.

But how to take on that problem? He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Severus had cut it shorter after the war, a way of starting over, but even after five years it was still a bit jarring to feel it so short after a lifetime of hair down to his chin or shoulder or even longer.

It had been about thirty minutes. Better go check on them.

He walked to the first floor landing quietly and peered over the handrail, where he had a pretty decent view of the sitting room and could observe unobtrusively. What he found horrified him.

Granger. Sitting among the students. Reading out loud. And all fifteen children sitting in rapt attention.

No. No. No. No.

Was this chit still incapable of following even the simplest instructions? Sit back, observe, say nothing. He had told her this for a very specific reason: he was not sure how well the children would react to her, and wanted to give them time to adjust to her presence before she began actually interacting with them.

He strode quickly down the stairs and into the sitting room and made a beeline for Granger. "Up," he said softly. She looked at him quizzically. Was she willfully misunderstanding him tonight? "Up," he said more forcefully but still quietly. Granger set down the book and followed him out of the room. Severus flicked his wand over his shoulder and cast his Patronus to watch over the children.

"Read," was all he said over his shoulder.

As soon as they were out of their sight and hearing, he grabbed Granger none-too-gently by the elbow, pulled her up the stairs, threw open the door to her bedroom, and shoved her inside.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" she asked angrily.

Severus hastily threw up a silencing charm before rounding on her, his black eyes blazing. "Sit. And. Observe," he spat. "That is all you were to do—sit and observe. I thought you could handle that very simple instruction. Then the moment my back is turned you begin to interact with them."

"They were having trouble reading, all I did was—"

"Of course they have trouble reading, they have learning disabilities, almost all of them. Do you think I am unaware of that? Do you think I do not wish to remedy that?" He was nearly yelling now, and he never yelled. "But you have taken this a step too far. You were meant to observe so that they could get used to your presence. Only when they were used to you would it be wise for you to speak with them. They are used to people abandoning them, they do not trust easily, which is why I introduce new people very, very slowly."

"They seemed to trust me. Margaret was a little hesitant at first but soon she drew closer to me and the others asked if they could listen and of course I wasn't going to say no—"

"Granger."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Granger stopped talking.

"By disregarding the very specific, and yet very simple, instructions I left you, you have broken my trust. Unfortunately, it seems that even your brain cannot wrap itself around something so simple. I cannot say I am surprised and I cannot believe I thought you might be able to handle it. Today it might be something simple like reading. Tomorrow it could be something much more dire."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus, you know that I am in this for them."

"Do I?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why wouldn't you?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at her, his voice dripping with venom. He took a few steps closer to her, towering over her, his stance every bit as intimidating as he hoped. "Why would I?"

--------------------

Hermione was livid. Here she was, helping these children, drawing them out of their shells, interacting with them, connecting with them, and she was being berated for it like a first year who had melted a cauldron? He was treating her like she had been caught beating them?

What was wrong with this man?

She huffed in frustration. She really, really didn't want this to get worse.

"Severus," she said softly. "I have no wish to argue with you. I never have, and especially not tonight. I can try to defend myself, but I just know it will be futile. You have made up your mind about me and my motives, I see. You're right, I did not just sit there and watch them. I disobeyed you and I connected with them. They seemed to like it. They responded to it. I gathered very quickly that this was a very rare occurrence for them. I think it was the right thing to do and nothing you can say will change my mind.

"I know this is stressful and new, Severus, but I do not know what more I can do to prove to you that Harry and I are on your side. If you are not yet ready to believe us after what you have seen the last few months alone, then I do not know what more I can do to convince you. I am done trying."

She sighed. "No, let me be clear; I am not done trying with them. I am simply done trying with you."

They stood there eye-to-eye, toe-to-toe, for what seemed like eternity. He ought to throw her out on her arse right now and ward the doors so tight she could never come back.

He didn't realise until he took a deep breath that he had been nearly panting.

"No one does anything just for them, Granger, and you and I have never been on the same side," he said finally.

"That's. Not. True," she said through gritted teeth, pausing after each word for emphasis. "We were always on the same side. We may not have liked each other, but we always fought for the same thing."

He snorted derisively. "You and I may have been soldiers fighting on the same side of a battle, but that does not mean we fought for the same things."

"I don't doubt our motivations were different, but that shouldn't mean anything."

"It means everything."

Granger took a breath and shook her head. "You're wrong. And the past has nothing to do with this, the here and now, these children. Now, we are fighting on the same side and doing so for the same reason."

"Granger, are you incapable of thinking for yourself? Always 'we', 'we', 'we' with you. Can you and Potter untangle yourselves from each other to focus on what you are doing and why?"

She looked affronted. "I am not Harry's puppet and never have been. This was my idea, I learned of this problem through my audit, and we are both here for the same reasons as each other as well as you."

"You cannot possibly know my reasons."

"Can't I?" she said acidly. "It started out of pure obligation, like it did with protecting Harry. Didn't it? You felt responsible that these children had been orphaned in whole or in part due to your actions as a spy, whether by your wand directly or by information you betrayed to the Order. But that changed, didn't it Severus? You grew to care for them. You grew to sympathise with their plight.

"I know I'm right. I've seen how you care for children who you protect solely out of obligation. You did everything you could to make sure Harry knew you did not like him and that you equated him with his father. You never, ever, missed an opportunity to insult him. You never held him while he cried, or protected him from the wrong influences, or stood on a landing and watched to make sure the person who you had left to watch him was treating him the way he should be treated. And you never, ever took steps to become his legal guardian.

"That's the difference here, Severus. Somewhere along the line you went from acting out of sheer guilt to caring for these children as a father."

"You do not have the first idea—"

"Do I not? Tell me I'm wrong! Look me in the eye and tell me that this is nothing more an obligation for you and that you're up here berating me for disobeying an instruction you gave me out of habit, not out of fear that they will be hurt. Look me in the eye and tell me that you owe these children only what you owed Harry and nothing more. Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't care for them." With that she crossed her arms and glared at him challengingly.

Again they stood there, eye-to-eye, toe-to-toe, breathing heavily and saying nothing. Glaring. Daring the other to speak. Severus could think of no reply to Granger, at least not one that he cared to share.

"Do you want me to leave?" she finally asked after a long silence.

He thought for a moment before answering. "Not yet. They need to get to bed. Then I want you out of here as soon as possible." He turned on his heel and left.

-------------------

That infuriating man! He still did not trust her! Hermione paced around the room, wishing she could go outside. Then the realization struck her that here she was, twenty-four years old, and she was being confined to her room like an unruly child as if he was still her teacher. Which made things even more maddening.

She flopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Harry had kept up the crown moulding in here at her request, and Snape did not seem to have changed anything. She had no doubt he had been through all her possessions, looking for reasons not to trust her or to check for hexes or traps. She supposed the silencing charm was still in place because she could hear nothing outside the door—no shuffling of feet off to bed, no feet on the stairs, nothing. Given that Grimmauld Place was the kind of old home that betrayed even the quietest of visitors with squeaky steps and loose floorboards, and that she had seldom slept through Harry creeping downstairs for a midnight snack, that was most likely the case.

Hermione wondered if Snape had locked her inside. She wouldn't put it past him.

How long did it take to put fifteen children to bed? Half an hour? Two hours? Ten minutes? Would it be mad to try to take a nap?

Definitely would be. Best get up.

Finally, after what could have been fifteen minutes or five hours (she was so lost in her anger that she had lost track of time) her bedroom door opened and there stood Snape with a murderous look on his face. Refusing to be cowed, she stood up and walked to the door, standing face to face.

"I think it's time you left," he said.

"What about your plans for the evening? Don't you need me to stay with the children here?"

"Not anymore."

"Are you not going?"

"That is no concern of yours."

"Yes it is."

"Granger!"

"I think we both know it's better for everyone involved if someone is here with the children at all times, not just your Patronus. You know and I know that it is a better idea for me to stay here, even if I just stay shut up in this room."

"You need to leave."

"Severus…" Hermione was finally at her wits' end. She brought her hands to either side of her head and rubbed her temples in an effort to soothe the tension headache that she felt coming on. "I don't understand. Surely you've ascertained by now that the children were neither harmed nor traumatised by my reading to them. Even you should be over the anger by now. So what I don't understand is why you persist in acting as if I did something to endanger them? Surely you owe me an explanation for that?"

"I owe you nothing."

"Severus…"

Snape looked at her coldly, and she could tell he was trying to decide whether she was worthy of his continued attention. She saw in his eyes anger and…betrayal?

Finally he did speak, and when he did so it was in a controlled voice that betrayed how defeated he really felt.

"They have never been read to before by anyone, save me. It is a very intimate thing for them. I do not wish them to grow attached to you only to have you leave them when it becomes too difficult."

Hermione was shocked. Wait, was she? She already knew that he did not trust her, and she knew that in his experience, people often did cut and run when things became too difficult. But she was probably the most tenacious person he had ever met—he had to know that from all that had happened between them at Hogwarts and after. Despite all of that he still could not trust others.

She had never felt such pity for someone. And pity, she knew, was the very last emotion Severus Snape would ever want anyone to show him.

"Oh Severus," she said, taking his hand, careful to show only concern and honesty in her face and her voice. "I am not going anywhere."

He did not withdraw.

"Go check on your graduates. I will stay here, either in this room or on the ground floor, in case the children need me. Leave a Patronus behind if you want. But I do not think it is right to leave them, and I won't."

He still did not withdraw his hand from hers or even respond.

"I know you want to protect them, but hiding them away from the world is not the answer." She let go of his hand. "Good night, Severus."

And with that she shut the door, leaving her former teacher standing alone in the corridor, utterly confused.

-----------------

He knew that he should have ripped open the door, grabbed her by the arm, and thrown her out on her arse.

He knew that he should have told her that she didn't have any idea what she was speaking about and intimidate her into silence.

He knew that he should have pulled his hand away the moment she reached for it.

He knew that when she squeezed his hand, he never should have squeezed back.

And he knew, above all, that he should have dismissed the whole thing as a pitiful attempt to manipulate him using a gentle touch. How many women had tried that on him in the past?

Severus knew all of this. Really. And yet here he was, walking back from Knockturn Alley after another visit to his graduates, having left Granger in charge.

Something about the way she had looked at him, spoken to him, touched him, had completely disarmed him and his suspicions. Deep down, he knew that she was not here to harm the children, was not seeking out a pretext to get him away for the night (no fool he, he had left a Patronus on each floor on which the children slept), and was not messing him around. He prided himself on being a superb reader of people, that he could understand the thoughts and motivations that they so easily and conveniently betrayed. From day one, Granger's face had betrayed nothing untoward, but he had not trusted himself. It had seemed far too good to be true, and so he had put her off. Used Legillimency. Taken her and Potter to that brothel to scare them away. Acted vulnerable to probe her into letting her guard down.

He couldn't help but feel foolish about the whole thing. Foolish for trusting her. Foolish for not trusting her. It was all very vexing.

He entered Grimmauld Place, shut the door, and collapsed against it, letting himself exhale loudly. This was, by far, the hardest part of his job. When the children were in his care, he could protect them. But a fat lot of good it did when, almost as soon as they left his charge, they turned to lives of crime and desperation and abuse.

What more could he do, he wondered. He knew he was not doing enough. His goal was to get them to Hogwarts and prepare them for the life they would have there. Yet his charges seemed to need his help the most after they left. He could not leave the younger ones; they required more time, but not as much help.

He did a thorough check of all the rooms. All children were sleeping in their beds, an excellent result on any night, and even better considering he had not even been here. On nights that Severus left, at least one child usually realised it and sat up waiting fearfully. Not tonight, it seemed.

He checked Granger's room last, knocking softly on the door but not waiting for a response before opening it. She was awake and reading by the fire and marking up some parchment; probably that bloody audit of hers.

"Ariadne Carrow had a nightmare, but I was able to calm her and she managed to fall back asleep. Otherwise, everyone was fine."

"Good," Severus replied.

Granger tilted her head and looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Granger. I'll retire now and let you do the same."

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"Granger… please…"

"I can tell that you're upset, Severus. I see it in your eyes. You may be good at masking your emotions, but something has upset you enough for me to be able to tell." She indicated the second chair by the fire. "Come sit with me until you feel better. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to."

When he thought about it later, he would find that he could not say why he accepted her invitation. He moved slowly and sat in the chair, not looking at her, but staring into the flames. It was a kind of meditation for him, watching the flames dance on the logs, feel the heat radiating out. Granger worked in complete silence next to him. Severus had never minded long silences, and it appeared that, for all her insufferable babbling, Granger did not mind them either. Most people felt the need to fill silences with small talk or questions. Granger seemed content to sit, like he did.

Curious.

"I went to Knockturn Alley tonight." Severus was surprised to hear himself speaking.

He heard the scratching of Granger's quill stop. "Back to the… that place?"

Severus nodded. He opened his mouth to say more but he found his voice too thick to speak.

"It's hard, going there, isn't it?" Granger asked. Severus did not reply. "You don't have to answer me if you don't want to, but what is it that you do when you visit them?"

For some reason, Severus found that he did want to answer her. "I speak with them. I listen to them. I give them money. I give them counsel. I bring news. But mostly I just… am there."

"Someone who treats them like human beings, rather than objects," Granger said thoughtfully. Severus nodded. "Severus, why not bring them here?"

He gave her a cool glare. "Do you think that I do not wish to take them out of that horrible place?" he snapped. "Do you not think that if I could give them the means to escape, I would? This is a large house, but not large enough for all of them."

"How many are there, in the… place?"

Typical Gryffindor, Severus thought. Wants to attempt to solve the problem, not accept that it cannot be solved.

"Six," Severus replied. "There are six."

"We could easily fit three in this room here, and we could move some of the younger children to three to a room and free up another room that way. Or we could transfigure the attic into a dormitory, you still haven't come up with a use for it…"

"Granger," Severus snapped. "Stop. First, I disagree that there is sufficient space for them. Second, what would they do instead? They would just live here? They would not be able to work or go to school."

"They would continue their education, like they should be doing anyway," Granger pointed out. "You already do that with the younger ones. Why not teach the older ones? They are not of age, they should be in school."

"I cannot duplicate the curriculum of Hogwarts, Granger!" Severus said in exasperation. "It takes all of my energy and all of my time just to take care of these younger children. To add older ones, to require a magical curriculum on top of everything else…impossible. And allow me to enlighten you, Granger: teaching one magical subject is taxing enough. To attempt even the core subjects…it is madness." He finally met her eyes. "I am only one man. I can only do so much. And yet…"

And yet it isn't enough.

Always have an excuse for your failures, don't you, said the voice.

"So the alternative is better?" Granger shot back.

Severus hung his head and spoke very quietly. "I am doing what I can."

Granger sighed. "I was just trying to be helpful."

"If I could get them back into Hogwarts, Granger, believe me, I would."

"Why not foreign schools? Durmstrang or Beauxbatons? Could they be sent there?"

Severus shook his head. "The names of the Death Eaters are known across Europe. At least here, I am able to keep half an eye on them and provide them with support. If they were to go abroad, to a country where they have no language skills and no connections, I do not dare think of what would happen to them."

Granger sighed. "I know that these are not problems that can be resolved tonight, or in one night, or anytime soon. But you know the old saying, where there's a will, there's a way. We will find another way."

Severus did not take kindly to that phrase. "It is my experience, Granger, that there is not always another way."

"You know Severus," Granger said a little too cheerfully, "I'm not necessarily sure that is your experience."

He let his mask fall for only the smallest of moments before regaining his expressionless look.

"Anyway," she continued, "I'm tired and imagine you must be too, so I am going home now. Good night, Severus."

She made to leave the room for good but turned around just as she reached the doorway and said softly, "You're wrong, by the way. You're one man, but you're not alone anymore. Not in this. Not ever again."

And she walked out the door, down the stairs, and out of the house.

Severus continued to sit in the room, her room, and think about what she said. But he did not dwell on what they had talked about, but rather on one of the first things she had mentioned.

Ariadne Carrow had had a nightmare? Granger had gone in there? Why hadn't it alerted his Patronus? It was designed to alert him of any intruders into any of the children's rooms.

Of course. The Patronus would only alert him if an intruder posed any danger to the children.

If there was anything Severus could trust, it was his Patronus. Her Patronus.

Granger apparently was safe after all. She posed no threat to the children.

And, perhaps, none of them did.

Granger had disobeyed him and overstepped her bounds and pushed him far beyond his comfort zone.

Blast her, it seemed to have done some good.

They were sleeping better than they had since their arrival. They had spent a sustained amount of time with Granger without anything bad happening. They had even seemed a bit sad to see her go upstairs.

Perhaps… perhaps he could let up just the tiniest bit. For them.

--------------

Lying in her bed that night, unable to sleep, Hermione felt something gnaw at her stomach.

True, he had given her a specific instruction, which she had ignored. And then he had asked her to leave, which she refused to do. And then he had not wanted to talk, but then she had pushed him into it.

Even though Hermione was pleased with the result of what she had done, and was confident that the push had been necessary under the circumstances, and had no doubt in her mind at the time it had been the absolute right thing to do, she couldn't help but feel a bit conflicted about it.

Just a bit.

She had effectively browbeaten Severus Snape into leaving her alone with his kids, against all of his objections. And lived to tell the tale.

Hermione swallowed. She had done the right thing, hadn't she? Forced Snape to see that his ways weren't always the best and make him see that she wasn't a threat.

That had been the right thing to do… hadn't it?

The next few months were sure to be an adjustment, for both of them. For all of them. She could only pray that their personalities wouldn't cock the whole thing up.

Perhaps a bit of distance would be appropriate. Just for now.

----------------

I know the first bit was more of a summary than a story, and for that I apologize. I prefer to show, rather than tell, but things needed to happen so we could jump ahead to the present. I figure, start to finish, this chapter encompasses about six weeks.

Remember that we're catching up with our friends six years after we last saw them; they've already changed a bit from the ones we knew and loved in DH.

Coming up: Our other volunteers come to Grimmauld Place and the group settles into a routine.


Just to Be by Amarti [Reviews - 6]

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