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The Tie That Binds by Laralee [Reviews - 11]

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Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.




Chapter Seven


Of Things To Come


Severus opened his eyes, unsure for a moment why he had even woken up. As he gained awareness of his surroundings, he was displeased to learn of the stiff neck he had developed from sleeping upright in what he deemed the most uncomfortable chair known to man. He absently rubbed the back of his neck as he looked out into the darkness. His eyes desperately tried to make out the shapes hidden amongst the shadows, but his sensitive hearing told him all he needed to know. The noise of the dying embers in the firebox and the ticking of the old clock that sat on the mantel piece were the only sounds he could hear. It was a peaceful, serene moment, but it carried a certain melancholy he could not deny. It was as if the castle was preparing itself for the departure of the woman lying just a few feet from him.

Following the violent outburst Minerva had only hours before, it was decided that the Headmistress would be monitored in shifts. Hermione and Severus had agreed to take the first scheduled time, considering the Minerva had been given a very powerful dosage of the Reversion Draught. The Healer assured both of them that the Headmistress and those in close proximity to her would be perfectly safe to stay at Hogwarts. Truthfully, they had been advised by Poppy and the Healer that taking her to St. Mungo's would have been for nothing as they were simply playing the waiting game at this juncture. It was a hard truth to swallow, but Minerva's fate was securely out of their hands.

Severus closed his eyes again, this time bringing both hands to his eyes to relieve some of the pressure from the beginnings of a tension headache. He looked to the chair sitting beside him, expecting to see Hermione sound asleep as he had left her. It was that time when he noticed his companion was not sitting beside him, but instead perched on the side of Minerva's bed. Hermione's knees were tucked under her chin with her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her pose reminded Severus of the student she had been some fourteen years ago—so incredibly vulnerable and desperately young. In the face of all that she had endured and witnessed in her life, Hermione Granger was affected by even the most peaceful of deaths. Severus considered speaking to her, but he thought better of it when Hermione spoke softly herself.

"You're all I've got left, Minerva," she whispered hoarsely. From the sound of her voice it was clear she had been crying. "You have to pull through this. There are so many people that depend on you, so many people that need you." Hermione reached for Minerva's pale hand, holding on to it as if it was some terribly precious gift. The younger witch looked absently toward the wall behind the headboard of Minerva's bed, obviously fighting a losing battle with her tears. A quiet sob erupted from her as she shuddered to keep herself quite. "I have failed you, Minerva. I have failed you and it kills me because in all of the years I have known you, you have never once let me fall by the wayside. You deserved so much better from me and I couldn't give it to you. I wonder if I could have done something differently, if I could have worked harder—if that would have really made a difference."

Severus anger for the dying old woman was nearly as strong as the sudden desire to console the woman sobbing over her. "Hermione, it would not have made a difference," Severus finally said, unable to accept listening to her berate herself any longer.

Hermione's head whipped around at the sound of his voice. She hurriedly wiped an errant tear from her face as if she was embarrassed of being caught. "I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't mean to wake you."

Though the room was dimly lit, Severus could easily see the evidence of her sorrow. Hermione's reddened tear-stained cheeks only added to her naivety. What angered him the most, however, was not the fact that she was poignant, but rather that she had been forced into such a state by the selfishness of a woman who did not deserve her tears. Snape was livid with Minerva because someone of her aptitude and judgment should have known better than to have brought something like this upon herself and her young protégé.

Severus repositioned himself in the worn leather chair, ignoring her apology entirely. "You need to stop this nonsense. What is happening to Minerva is out of our control. Do you understand that? It is out of your control and you must accept that fact."

Hermione hesitated, looking to her bare feet dangling off the edge of the bed, as she struggled to find the proper words. "I have lost so many of the people I love. Sometime I wonder why I even bother allowing myself to get close to others. They seem to get ripped away from me when I need them most and it is beyond my control. I know it sounds stupid and childish and I should know better, but sometimes I don't think I will ever truly be able to bear that burden alone."

Before Severus could even fathom a response to such a statement Hermione interrupted his thoughts. "How do you manage it? And please don't misinterpret my question as thoughtless or overly intrusive. I only ask because I am in awe of your level-headedness. You have known Minerva longer than I have been alive, and yet your grief doesn't smother you. It rolls off you like water from a duck's back."

Under normal circumstances, Severus would have rebuked anyone for asking such a personal question. However, the honest curiosity and sincerity radiating from his former student's blood shot tired eyes willed him to provide her with a genuinely honest response. "For the longest time, my anguish over the decisions I've made in my life haunted me. I saw grief as an emotion I hated because I felt it was a terribly weak feeling to have. I kept it to myself. That sorrow that I so foolishly confused for a weak emotion ate at me from the inside like a worm hollows out an apple. It carved intricately complex pathways through me, and left what you see sitting before you to this very day. I am an overly complicated man, Hermione, but it is entirely by my doing."

"You are not a hard person to like, if that is what you are insinuating," she said with a slight smile as she returned to the seat by his side.

"I happen to disagree," Severus said as he stretched his long legs out in front of oh him, "but I'm afraid you are missing the point. You see, I thought I had to bear the burden you described, because I felt that if I shared my grief with others, it would seem as if I was asking for pity and consolation from them. People have a way of disappointing you when you need them most, and when you open yourself up to needing something from someone—no matter what it is—you will most assuredly never receive it."

A somber silence filled the air between them as they weighed the complexity and the truth of the of Severus's statement. The revealing fact was not that people have great capacity to love, but rather an even greater capacity to hurt, most often during times when they are called upon to feel the most compassion, but fail to do so for whatever underlying agenda or reason. Severus wasn't sure if Hermione realized what he had just said, but the brutal truth of his own words revealed something he had failed to take into consideration regarding himself. Never, in the fifty-two years of his life, had he spoken truer words to describe himself. Now, given the current circumstances surrounding him, Severus could clearly see that he had attempted to prove his own epiphany. The time when someone needed him the most, Severus found himself looking for any excuse he could fathom to walk away.

'Those who love you will pine for your life, but they will also gain the friendship of someone who can give them what you and others cannot.' Severus had recited that particular proclamation from Death over and over in his head, and the spectre's meaning was growing increasingly clear. Much to his horror, he realized the last month had been completely out of his control. The day he stepped foot in the castle was the day he had become a part of Hermione's life. The day Minerva spoke with Death was the day Death altered not just her and Hermione's paths, but Severus's as well.

Severus's train of thought was interrupted by a soft gasp coming from across the room. He glanced towards Minerva's bed. The headmistress stirred, but not in the manner that would have immediately caused alarm. The movement was slight, much like the twitching of her fingers or the curling of her toes. It gave no reason for concern except that a small sound of ache escaped her lips. Hermione went to her bedside, but Severus's eyes had locked firmly on Death's sandglass. The white sand was gone, having passed through the sieve to the bottom crystal bulb. The blackened granules lay unmoving in the hourglass, taunting Severus with the awful truth they represented. As he watched the hourglass with disdain, Severus noticed a faint white glow coming from what he believed to be the inside of the glass. He leaned forward in his chair, squinting at the hourglass, noticing it was not coming from the object itself, but rather from Minerva. His eyes trailed from the reflection to the woman lying on the bed.

Minerva was lay perfectly still, her hands knotted in the flannel sheets covering the bed. Her gaze was directed at the ceiling, though her eyes had been taken over by glossiness. A white glow was forming in Minerva's chest. Hermione and Severus watched as the glow got brighter and brighter before beginning to dissipate into the air surrounding Minerva.

"Minerva," Hermione pleaded, her voice teetering on the edge of control. "Minerva, please!"

Severus did not turn to face Hermione but instead kept his eyes locked on Minerva. He knew what was happening and that there was nothing either of them could do to prevent it.

Hermione whisked around to Severus, her eyes wide with panic and dismay. "What's happening to her?! You've got to do something! Anything!"

Severus's expression did not change. He simply looked into Hermione's eyes for a moment before delivering the news. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice cracking uncharacteristically, "but there's nothing to do. She's gone."

Hermione was immediately dissolved into a fit of tears. "No, she can't be! She can't die! Severus, please!" Before Severus knew it, Hermione had grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and pressed her face into his chest. She was clearly devastated, just as Severus had known she would be. He could feel her tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He had no idea what to do to attempt to console the young woman. Luckily for him, Hermione's cries had attracted the attention of Poppy Pomfrey, who had been on her way to check on Minerva. She entered the room and immediately knew what had happened. She took the sobbing young witch into her arms and began to comfort her.

"How did it happen, Severus?" the Matron asked as she held Hermione close to her.

"She's gone. A light formed in her chest, disappeared, and she was gone." As Poppy turned her attention back to Hermione, Severus went to the desk in the corner room and began writing on a sheet of parchment. "Funeral arrangements will have to be made soon," he said. "Minister Shacklebolt will also want to know of Minerva's passing. I'll send an owl to him."

Invisible to the others in the room, Minerva watched the scene play out from across the room. Momentarily, she was joined by a white, ghost-like figure. Minerva's eyes filled with rage as she turned toward the one responsible for the sorrow she was beholding. "This was not what I wanted!" Minerva shrieked at Death. "Look at her! Look at what I've done…what you forced me to do!"

Death's eyes narrowed at Minerva's insolence, though she did not speak. Instead, she held her ground surveying the devastation she had left in her wake.

"She is broken," Minerva whispered to herself. "She is broken and it is entirely your doing."

Death stepped forward, coming to stand directly behind Hermione and Poppy. She studied the distraught witch for a moment before turning to Minerva. "You dare accuse me of not upholding my end of the bargain?" Death growled her ice-blue eyes boring into Minerva's.

"That is exactly what I'm implying," Minerva spat. "Look at her and tell me that you have helped her! She is in pieces!"

Death looked at Minerva with a frightening wildness behind her eyes—similar to the way a wolf would eye a wounded deer. "Dear woman, you have much to learn of the ways of this world. You may have been wise beyond your years during your life, but you are truly an ignorant fool. You are no different from any other human on this earth. You roam this world frozen with your rage, your hatred, and your self-pity, but you never once stop to look at life in its entirety. Death is never unfair. Every soul must experience death, despair, or whatever foul name you choose to call it. They must face those tragedies so that they may never ever forget what it feels like to have compassion for others. They must taste the terrible pain of misfortune because, without the bitter taste of loss coating every fiber of their being, they would never feel their emptiness being made whole."

"How dare you stand there, claiming to see the silver lining of this damned storm cloud?" Minerva shot back, the ire in her voice rising by the second.

"I claim it because I have seen it!" Death roared. "Your thinking is preposterous if you believed her life would magically mend itself together straight away. Hermione Granger has been given the thing she needs to set her path straight. He is sitting in this very room."

"Severus knows of my misdeeds. He would n—"

"But yet he stays," Death interrupted, having finally lost her patience with the matter. "That is enough bickering, Minerva. Your time here is over. We must go now."

Minerva was tempted to protest but knew that Death would not be persuaded. She gave one last look at the friends she was leaving behind. She hoped that Hermione especially would get over her grief quickly. After all, her happiness was the only reason Minerva had undertaken this foolhardy endeavor. Minerva turned to Death. "Lead the way, then." Death grabbed Minerva's hand and the two of them were gone, leaving only a corpse behind as solace to the mourners in the room.

*****


Following Minerva's passing, the rest of the weeks classes were suspended in preparation for her internment service. The normal hustle and bustle of attending classes, earning and losing of house points, and the excitement Quidditch matches had been replaced with an air of solemnity. The castle itself, thanks in part to the nearly torrential rain and fog that had settled over Scotland, had grown exceedingly cold and grey. The chill seemed to seep from the walls, permeating into the inhabitants of the castle. The student's, apart from meal times, had holed themselves up in their common rooms as the staff prepared the grounds for the memorial service.

For Hermione, the days following Minerva's death seemed to pass in a blur. She busied herself with seeing to Minerva's affairs. She relished the distraction because it was during the downtimes that she struggled to keep her head above the flooding torrents of grief that threatened to pull her under. Nights were often the worst, as she often woke in a fit from the nightmare of Minerva's soul leaving her.

Hermione would have never mentioned this fact to him, but she often found herself being drawn to Severus when thoughts of Minerva popped into her head. The two of them danced the same dance every night. Like clockwork, Hermione would show up at his rooms to discuss something that could have waited until the morning. Conversations would always change course, resulting in several empty tea pots and a sleeping witch curled up on Severus's settee hours later. Hermione would always be gone when Severus emerged from his bed, having left a hastily written note of apology for intruding. Severus would have never admitted it, but having Hermione visit his rooms each night, played the deciding factor in terms of his own steps moving forward.

As co-deputies, Hermione and Severus had been sporadically meeting with the Board of Governors to discuss the plan moving forward. Just as he had intended, Severus had helped with the search of a new Potions professor by compiling a list of applicants he deemed appropriate and worthy of such a position. Interviews, he said, would be conducted once the Headmistress's affairs were set in order and he insisted that he would see to them personally as his last act as co-deputy. When Hermione learned of his intention to leave his post as co-deputy and Potions professor she did not press him on the issue, considering he had already done more than he had original agreed to in the first place. Hermione was, of course, unaware of his true intentions for leaving both posts.

Severus, having once held the post as Headmaster, had been offered the position again by the Governors and had accepted the offer on his own accord. He did not completely understand why he had come to that decision, other than the fact it simply felt like it was where he needed to be. The look he received from Hermione when he informed her of his acceptance was one of relief and legitimate shock. The two of them began making preparations for Minerva's funeral which was to be held on the grounds at Hogwarts.

Four days after Minerva's death, Hogwarts was abuzz with commotion as witches and wizards from all over packed the grounds for Minerva's funeral. Snape stood at the podium, a lump in his throat, as he waited for everyone to take their seats. As soon as they had, he welcomed them to Hogwarts in his official capacity and said a few words about his former friend and colleague. He kept his words brief and quickly seized the opportunity to turn over speaking duties to Hermione.

"At this time, I give you Professor Hermione Granger, Deputy Headmistress and close personal friend to our former Headmistress." Hermione stood from her seat and walked solemnly to the podium.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said offering a weak smile to Severus. She turned to the crowd of mourners that had assembled in the Room of Requirement. Hermione's eyes swept the horde nervously. She spied the Minister of Magic, Kingsly Shacklebolt, sitting in the front row alongside Harry and Ginny Potter. Next to his sister sat Ron Weasley, who was looking at the toe of his boot. Near the back of the room she spotted Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. They had most likely been invited by Severus. The Malfoys kept to the shadows to avoid being noticed, and would most likely slip back through the door before Hermione would have a chance to thank them for everything they had done for her—and for Minerva.

The thought of Minerva brought a pang of sadness over her, but Hermione had promised herself she would hold it together long enough to escape the public eye. She had asked Severus if she could give the remarks about Minerva, and he had agreed wholeheartedly that that task should fall to no one but her. Hermione had spent the better part of the previous day finding the right words to say to the horde of mourners before Severus finally intervened. He read over what she had written and promptly sealed the parchment to prevent Hermione from toiling anxiously over it. She broke the green seal of Severus's approval that contained her eulogy to the former Headmistress and began to read.

"People should never be forced to come together under these dreadful circumstances, but alas, we find ourselves here nonetheless. Although the heavy shroud of grief has been draped over each and every one of us, we must never forget that death is not what brought us together this day, but life. Death, I have come to realize, is terribly undeviating, but I do not believe it deserves the title of permanency. Life may not be permanent in the sense that we will walk this Earth forever, but when a beloved friend passes beyond the Veil, the question we need to ask ourselves is do they truly stop living?"

Hermione paused momentarily to gather her bearings. The bleak silence that radiated from the crowd was beginning to weigh heavily on her shoulders, making Hermione feel as if her knees would buckle from the immense pressure. She was quickly discovering that there were two entirely different types of silences. This silence was nothing of what one would find should they walk into a service at some stuffy overly-velveted funeral parlor. This silence was terrifying and all-consuming. This was the same silence Hermione had endured when she sat alone in her room shortly after she learned her parents had been savagely ripped away from her. This was the same silence she believed she would never defeat. Hermione grasped the sides of the podium until her knuckles felt as if they would burst open. Had it not been for the nod of a certain black-clad wizard, she wasn't sure she would have ever found her voice above the deafening stillness.

"Does a person stop living once his or her body grows weary from their journey? Does a person cease to exist in this world when they draw their last breath? Does a person who is placed beneath the cold, unforgiving ground leave you forever? While the presumed response would seem apparent, I can tell you that I have discovered that the truthful answer is most definitely no. And the answer is no because that loved one continues to live on within each and every single one of us. This fact is no less true for Minerva McGonagall."

A wayward tear slipped from Hermione's eye, falling to the parchment she held in her hands. She watched it roll down the page, picking up ink as it went. With each word the drop passed, she could feel the pain in her chest grow, like someone was slowly prodding her with a needle. This was the part Hermione secretly dreaded because it would make it devastatingly clear that Minerva was truly gone.

"Minerva may never be able to see the light of a precious new day, but we have been fortunate enough to receive the gift of remembering her for the selfless woman she was. We will remember her kindness the same as we will remember her sternness and her unmistakable bravery. We will remember those things because they have shaped us and molded us into the people we are to this very today. Although we may not be able to pinpoint the exact instances where this woman impacted us, we know they are there. And it is because we know that those parts of her are within us that we have assembled here to honour her memory."

Hermione turned her eyes from the lamenters to the wrought iron stand that had been placed beside the podium. The stand held what was clearly a portrait covered by a red and gold satin cloth. "As most of you know, it is customary for each Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts to have a portrait commissioned in their honor upon their death. These portraits hang in the Headmaster's office and provide assistance and counsel to all subsequent Headmasters. This is simply one more way in which Minerva McGonagall's influence will live on." Hermione brandished her wand, pointed it at the portrait and flourished it. The cloth vanished, revealing a stunning likeness of Minerva within an intricately carved frame. Hermione swallowed the lump that had appeared in her throat. It was at once both joyful and painful to see Minerva's face once again as she remembered it before Minerva had taken ill and Hermione had been forced to watch the life slowly leave her. In her portrait, Minerva looked strong and vibrant, and Hermione was glad to see that the portrait artist had captured Minerva's essence so accurately. Even though there was incredible sadness in her heart and a gnawing desire to fall to pieces, seeing Minerva's face suddenly gave Hermione a strength she hadn't known she possessed.

"This portrait is only an echo of the woman it depicts, but it is our memories, our experiences, and our time shared together that will make the portrait whole. Though I only had the privilege of knowing Minerva a short time, there is perhaps no one who has done more to shape me into the person I am today. This portrait may portray Minerva's likeness, but it fails to capture how truly lovely she was. Minerva embodied all that is good in this world and I'm positive that most of you would attest to this fact. She was uncommonly caring, thoughtful, hardworking, impressively brave, and, above all else, steadfastly compassionate to those in her life. It is this compassion that I will always remember. It is this undying spirit of empathy that gives me hope for things to come. Minerva not only showed me unwavering compassion in a time when I needed it the most, but she graciously instilled that virtue within me."

From his seat, Severus watched Hermione, secretly thankful that every other set of eyes was fixed solely on her. The eulogy she had prepared was more than adequate to honor his former friend, but listening to her present it to the crowd was an entirely different pill to swallow. Hermione spoke highly of Minerva, but that was because she did not know the truth. The truth, Severus realized, would be enough to send her completely over the edge. Hermione was, as Severus liked to describe her, a dark cloud swelling with rain. He was not entirely sure how much more she could handle in her life before she burst wide open. Severus had decided that he would never divulge to Hermione the real reason for Minerva's passing because, as Minerva had said, it would undo everything she had endured. Severus decided it would be a terrible injustice to infringe upon Hermione's lasting memory, considering it was all she had left of her mentor and maternal figure. So there he sat, silently watching Hermione pour her heart out to someone who, in Severus's opinion, was undeserving of any such tribute.

"I have seen countless people pass beyond the Veil in my thirty-two years of life. I have seen them surrounded by their loved ones as they take their last breaths and I have seen those same loved ones thrust into the cold, solitary land of sorrow. In this cold desolate space, surrounded by the frigid sting of grief and despair, we often think there is nothing for us to do but shiver until we feel as if we shall die from our own sadness. What we fail to realize is that a loved one's story does not end when their body waivers. It is transformed. We meander in and out of each other's lives, but it is this wandering that ties us all together. It is our experiences, it is our memories; it is our lives shared together on the fabric of time that truly binds us. If I have anything to leave you with it is this: our connection with Minerva is not gone. Do not do her an injustice by only remembering her death. Do what is right by her and remember her life. Remember her for the strong-willed, compassionate person she is and most importantly, hold tight to those parts of her that have implanted themselves within us, because it is with those pieces that she will truly live on. "

Hermione ended her speech and took her seat next to Severus. She half-listened as Kingsley Shacklebolt delivered some remarks about Minerva's contributions to the Wizarding world followed by a farewell song sung by the Hogwarts choir. After the service had concluded, the mourners who had gathered began to socialize and reminisce about Minerva. Hermione saw several familiar faces and did her best to smile politely and keep her composure as she was hugged and consoled by countless people. Hermione was attempting to pull herself away from the crowd when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Hermione turned around to see Ron Weasley was the one who tapped her on the shoulder. She hadn't seen him for nearly two years, but she could feel the stinging jolt of their past come over her. The wizard smiled at her ruefully as he pulled her toward him in an awkward hug. "You look good, Hermione. How have you been?"

"I'm well enough, thank you. What about yourself? How has the Ministry been treating you?"

"I'm alright and work is going well. Of course, when your boss is your best friend that tends to take a bit of the pressure off…" Ron trailed off, looking to the floor. That was the only clue Hermione needed to guess what he was about so say something he felt was important. "Look, I'm going to get right to it. I know we haven't talked in a while, but I just wanted to let you know I've talked to some of my contacts at St. Mungo's. I can get you counseling if you need it. I know how things like this get you overly upset."

Hermione could sense the white-hot flush creeping across her face as her Ron's condescending words sank in. She wasn't sure what surprised her the most, the fact that he took it upon himself to seek out aide for her or the fact that he genuinely thought she needed it.

"Ron, I don't feel like now is the time to discuss this," Hermione said, trying to stifle the anger that was growing beneath her calm façade. "While I appreciate your concern, I hardly think it is appropriate or merited."

Severus, who was quietly conversing to a fellow mourner some few feet away, felt the bile rise from deep within him when he heard Weasley's proposal. He spun around to see that Ron and cornered her. By the look on her face, it was plain to see she was struggling to maintain her composure. "Mister Weasley, might I suggest you take your asinine suggestion elsewhere. Miss Granger is not in need of any of the so called services you may have access to."

Ron's face turned a wonderful shade of green as he recognized the voice coming from behind him. "Headmaster Snape," the redhead managed. "I meant no disrespect , it's just I know how Hermione get's all bent out of shape when things like this happen."

"All bent out of shape?" Severus repeated. "Weasley, you refer to Miss Granger as if she is some sort of simpleton. If she says she doesn't need your help, then she does not need your help."

The sickly shade of green plaguing Ron's complexion turned nearly as red as the hair covering his head. "Now you wait a minute, Snape! What gives you the right to speak for her? You don't even like her!"

"Let me stop you right there, Ronald," Hermione interrupted. "Severus doesn't speak for me and you certainly don't either. He has been there for me throughout this entire ordeal which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you. Furthermore, I don't appreciate any handouts you try to throw at me. Let me make this crystal clear: I don't need your help and I'm perfectly okay by myself. Now, if you'll excuse me…" she trailed off, turning to flee from his smothering presence.

Ron reached out and grabbed the sleeve of her dress robes. "Don't touch me!" Hermione hissed as she shook herself free from his grasp. "And for the record, you have once again confused and mixed up everything in the same pathetic, careless way you always do. I have neither the energy nor the inclination to explain to you the depths that you have just brought yourself in my eyes, but I can tell you this, Ronald Weasley: I would sooner throw myself beneath the moving wheels of the Hogwarts Express before I accept any help you try to offer me."

Ron blanched at the deathly severe look directed at him, his own agitation growing as the seconds ticked by. "What is that supposed to mean!?" he spat, his voice full of incredulity. "I was only trying to help—"

Severus's lip twitched with delight as he mentally pictured Hermione's well -placed insult bouncing around inside Weasley's dimwitted hollow head. He simply couldn't pass up the opportunity to drive the point home. "I believe she just gave you the shortened directions leading straight to Hell."

Ron started to speak again but was cut off. "I believe Miss Granger is finished with this conversation, Mister Weasley. I would advise you to calmly walk away. I'm not sure what she will do to you if you open your trap again, but I assure you that I won't restrain her."

Ron stood with a blank stare on his face for a few seconds before turning and walking back toward Harry and Ginny. Hermione looked up at Severus, "Thanks. I'm not sure what I would have done either, but it probably would have resulted in some bad public relations for Hogwarts."

Severus offered a slight smile as he grabbed Hermione's arm and steered her toward the exit. "I don't know about you, but I've had enough of this for one day. I just had a bottle of Ogden's Old delivered yesterday. Care to join me?"

Hermione surveyed the room once more. Perhaps she should stay, she thought, but the thought of putting on a smile for one second longer repulsed her. She had found solace in the one person she never expected, she wasn't about to let that slip through her fingers. "Absolutely, I'd love to. Lead the way," she answered. With that, the two of them exited the room, leaving behind the past in prospect of what was to come.




Author's Notes:

I would like to extend a special thanks to Meladara and Desigrl. This story shines because of them. Desi, you made sense of my nonsense and I cannot thank you enough. To Mel: I would have never made it without you. I am forever in your debt and the only gift I can offer you is this story. This is dedicated to you, Mel. You've certainly earned it.

Jenidralph, you have mad skills, my dear! The artwork you created for this story is absolutely incredible. It was an honor to collaborate with you and I can't wait for people to see what you were able to do.

kerravonsen, thank you for suggesting a prompt that literally drove my Muse wild. I hope this story lives up to your expectations.

Finally, I would like to thank all of you who read and review. You are the reason I do this—that, and keeping Severus Snape alive and well. Thank you for your time and your reviews. Your words are like gold to me.


The Tie That Binds by Laralee [Reviews - 11]

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