Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't speak German. There is no plot outline. Continued from Chapter 1.

* * * * *

The murmuring of the crowd trailed off as the guitarist picked his way to the front of the stage.

“Guten Abend, meine Damen und Herren. Wir heißen Gans Füße, und wir freuen uns, Ihnen die für Sie durchführen.” Severus downed the last of his drink and closed his eyes as the chords of an unfamiliar, haunting ballad began to roll out over the crowd.

Ah music, a magic beyond all we do here. Severus ground the ball of one palm into his eye, then rapped on the bar with his knuckles. He felt a gentle nudge on his knuckle and picked up the shot of Firewhisky without looking at it. The liquor burned white hot on the way down, and he welcomed the feeling. A pair of blue-grey eyes blinked in his mind’s eye, the half-moon spectacles flashing with refracted light. The voice of Albus Dumbledore remained silent, but the eyes continued to watch him. Severus looked back into them, feeling resolve seep away through his feet, through the bar stool, and into the floor. A wave of grief with the force of a tidal surge was coming at him from deep within, rising through his waist and chest. The Firewhisky burned hotter, keeping his head above the darkness. Harry is not the only one protected by his ability to love, Severus. You have always had an enormous capacity for love...the remorse you will feel for my death will preserve the unity of your soul from annihilation, I’m sure of it.

With a will of iron, Severus opened his eyes and focused on the band. The guitarist was thin and blond, wearing a pair of dark denim trousers and a dark blue button up top, singing esoterically about the thrill of love. The drummer and keyboardist were similarly dressed, and both sang in soft harmony, their combined voices echoing throughout the room. The moody rock ballads were beginning to get on his nerves, and he concentrated on breathing, holding in his air at the top of the breath, then exhaling, until he felt in better control of his emotions. The room had filled up, groups of three or four clustered around tables near the stage. Severus reached into an inner pocket of his black jacket and pulled out his dragonhide wallet, leaving a few crisp bills next to his empty glass. He stood to go, when he felt a shiver run through his skin. Carefully, casually leaning against the bar, he scanned the room again, paying more attention to each person, reaching out with his instinctual wariness into the dimmer corners of the room. Someone or something had his nerves thrumming a warning.

There were new people in the room, and the undercurrents of noise and conversation were growing louder. Severus couldn’t shake the feeling there was something he was missing, and that feeling usually precluded something terrible. Surreptitiously, he let his wand point slide into his palm. His eyes suddenly focused on a cluster of tables opposite the bar; at the far side near the wall, sitting alone at a wooden table with a pint of beer was a young woman, brown-red hair in soft curls cut in a strong bob that framed her jawline. She was wearing a leather jacket and a dark green bowler hat with small feathers, dark boot cut denim trousers and leather boots. Her head turned slightly and he detected the glimmer of enchanted jewelry. She was quite pretty, but that was irrelevant. Her magical signature was strong, and the enchanted jewelry was more than charmed. Powerfully magic people were worth knowing, if at least to know who to avoid. His instincts had never failed him, and they were telling him she was dangerous. Severus looked around. If he left the same way he had come, he might catch her attention, her and whomever might be with her. It was unusual that a powerful witch of that beauty would be alone. It would be better to wait until more people were moving around the room.

Severus walked around the back of the room until he could sit at a table four back from the young woman, keeping her slightly at his right. From this vantage point, he could partially see her face in profile, as well as her left hand, which tapped the table lazily in time to the band. A large cluster of raw red agate and topaz glimmered on her pointer finger, and Severus stiffened.

The ring was enchanted with some of the most aggressive protection spells he’d ever seen, warded and even strengthened with...some sort of venom. The inclusion of venom in the physical structure of the ring also rendered the runes detailing the design inscrutable at this distance. Not many wizards or witches could see the design of enchantments; it required a powerful discipline as well as an understanding of how magical energy interacted with physical space and time, and had been a particular talent of Albus Dumbledore’s. The ability to pick apart the layers of energy and enchantment present in a spell was one skill of many he had taught Severus to make him an ideal spy. Yet this woman had purportedly designed a ring to reject this very sort of observation. There were two women Severus had known with the skill necessary to possibly create a magical talisman with that much potential. One had been Minerva McGonagall, and the other would be, if his instincts were correct, Hermione Granger.

Open war had ended with the defeat of Voldemort and most of his allies during the battle at Hogwarts, but it had taken the better part of two years to track down the remaining Death Eaters. Severus’ name interestingly had never appeared on any of the lists released to the public of Death Eaters that remained at large. The only mention of him there had been were a few lines indicating he had disappeared, and was presumed dead. Potter had given a few interviews where he had quietly explained that Albus Dumbledore had planned his death to be at Severus’ hand, and that Severus Snape had been bound by an Unbreakable Vow. When questioned as to whether or not he thought Severus might still be alive, Potter had shaken his head, and given a non-answer, while Granger and Weasley, who were usually with him, simply remained silent. It was these interviews that made Severus strongly suspect that one of those three students had prevented his dying.

Granger, Weasley, and Potter had stopped speaking to the press soon after, and had only been mentioned since in association with the Ministry’s retrieval efforts. Severus had kept up with the news, somewhat, though he refused to get a subscription to The Daily Prophet, and knew that Weasley was working at the Ministry in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, while Potter was in training abroad at an undisclosed location; all three had been invited to become Aurors, although only Potter had accepted. Granger, interestingly enough, had disappeared from public view with a polite request to be left alone.

Could the woman be Granger? It was possible she was, if Granger was employing glamours. It was also possible that the woman was simply a formidable witch from another country, even German. If it was Hermione Granger, and if she wasn’t merely here by coincidence, then Severus had an entirely different problem on his hands. He had managed to make himself untraceable, performing a complex series of enchantments that not only rendered the name Severus Snape inert, making it impossible for letters to reach him, but in effect ended the existence of the identity known as Severus Snape. Anyone who sought him out by that name would, in theory, never be able to find him. So if this woman was Hermione Granger, how, and why, would she be here?

His musings were interrupted by a loud miaow. Looking down, his lip curled reflexively. An ugly orange cat stared up at him with amber eyes.

“Away, you,” he muttered. The cat leapt on to the chair next to his and rubbed its head against the backrest. Severus frowned when he realized the cat’s collar was covered in runes which were gleaming with a gently pulsing light. Someone was sending him a message, and covertly, which meant he was being watched. Suddenly Severus felt as if an iron door had closed around him. The threat was close- someone knew who he was, and that meant mortal danger. He nearly shot out of his seat when the cat leapt on to his lap. His fingers brushed the collar, and glowing runes sailed off the knotted leather, flitting quickly in front of his face.

Front row, grey jacket. Left, red dress. Behind you, white shirt, black slacks. Dark allies, who have been hunting you the last three weeks. Why don’t you join me at my table, Half-Blood Prince? A drink for old time’s sake.

There could be no mistaking who had sent him the message; the woman at the table had her face half turned towards him, and was smirking slightly, her eyes on the stage. It had to be her, Hermione Granger, one of four people on the planet who knew he had once called himself the Half-Blood Prince.

The orange cat had sauntered away, and he could spy it underneath her table. Whether or not she was lying about three assailants lying in wait for him, she was attempting to make contact. Weighing his options took all of a few seconds- Severus disillusioned himself and dropped forward on to the floor, careful not to jar the chairs or tables near by.

He heard a sound behind him, and turned in a crouch to see a man in a white shirt and dark slacks standing tall, wand in hand, his chair knocked over. The couple sharing his table looked up at him, shocked, as a woman with dark hair and a red dress hurried over to him.

“Wo ist er hingegangen?” Severus heard her say sharply, “Siehst du, wohin er gegangen ist?”

The man shook his head, taking the woman by the arm and speaking to her under his breath.

“Nein, ich sah ihn verlassen, aber ich denke, dass er für die Hintertür ausgeführt haben muss.” The woman looked furious, “Check the toilets,” she said shortly in English, and walked off towards the back of the pub.

Severus heard the click of a heel boot, and suddenly had his vision taken up by the sight of Hermione Granger’s torso lowering itself into a chair facing his hiding place. Her wand was trained on his nose, though she couldn’t possibly see him, or know he was there.

“Well, Professor,” she said quietly, and he felt a shock at hearing her familiar voice, “I hope you’ve been well.” Before he could speak, she offered him a flask, pulling it from an inner pocket.

“This is Polyjuice. Drink it. Then sit down and join me for a drink as I asked.” Realizing he was out of options, unless he wanted to Stun Granger and draw attention to himself, Severus took the flask and after smelling it carefully, drank it. Fortunately, Granger had picked a male who was very close in height and weight to himself. It only took a few minutes for the transformation to be complete, and once his innards stopped quivering, he transfigured his jacket and pants and stood, brushing his pant legs to make it look as if he’d been searching under the table. He took a seat opposite his former student, eyeing her warily. There were a number of questions he wanted to ask, but he would rather be as direct as possible.

“Ms. Granger, what in the hell are you doing here, and what is it that you want?”

Hermione Granger grinned at him, her nose wrinkling slightly. She had dropped her glamour once he’d emerged from under the table, and he was able to recognize the features of the girl he’d once taught in the face of the woman who sat before him.

“Well, saving you from a beat-down and possible assassination, and I’m here at Harry’s request.” She stopped talking and had a draught of her beer, her eyes twinkling at him in a way that reminded him forcibly of Albus.

“Don’t be fucking coy with me, Granger ,” he muttered. “How did you find me, and more importantly, who the fuck were they?” he asked, tilting his head in the direction of the back door. The man and woman hadn’t returned, and his sense of attack had abated. He was still wary of Granger’s presence, but her manner was disarming, and he felt himself beginning to get angry.

“They? They are people who want you dead. Cheeringly enough, that list isn’t long. The world turns and for now, practitioners of the darker arts aren’t interested in global dominion. That said, there will most likely always be racist, xenophobic idiots who hold Tom Riddle as some sort of hero or demigod. By the way, you may call me Hermione, if you wish.” She sat back, toying with her drink.

“You asked how I found you. Well, it was a challenge. You tried very hard not to exist. If I tried to call you by your former name now, it would be a strain for me to continue communicating with you, so I suppose I’ll continue calling you Professor.” The orange cat leapt on to her lap and she began stroking it with one hand.

“The shortest version is that Professor Dumbledore gave me enough information to start looking. After the battle at Hogwarts that night, I went with Harry to the Headmaster’s office. He went to use the Pensive while I guarded and warded the door. As I waited for him to finish viewing the memories you’d given him, I heard someone calling my name. It was Professor Dumbledore’s portrait. He told me your life was in mortal peril, and that I had to save you, at any cost. I was surprised, not only that he was asking me to save you, but that you were still alive. He instructed me to a compartment concealed in the back of one of the bookcases, where he had stored vials of potions and phoenix tears he’d collected from Fawkes, before his death. He told me to go and give you the potions and the tears, and then once it was safe, to return to him.” She frowned, stroking her cat’s back. It purred like a cement grinder, and Severus glared at it before looking back at her.

“I didn’t think to question him at the time, but Professor Dumbledore convinced me to leave Harry in the Headmaster’ office. We still had the better part of an hour before Voldemort was due to enter Hogwarts, and we thought perhaps your memories contained a strategy for defense, or for victory.”

She smiled sadly at him, “I suppose they did, though it wasn’t what any of us expected. I see now that I had to be sent away, or I would never have let Harry do what was necessary. I could never have let him walk into the forest alone. I would have died defending him.” She looked away.

“I Disillusioned myself and ran through Hogwarts. It was hell; the corridors were destroyed, the walls covered in blood, and the dead were everywhere- most of them Hogwarts students, sixth years who had stayed to fight, even some younger students who had managed to avoid being escorted away. The Creevy brothers, both of them, I saw them, were dead on the lawn. Professors Sinistra had been hit with an exploding entrails curse; I had to walk through her blood on my way out. I could hear people crying in the Great Hall. I managed to get by the Whomping Willow, and down the tunnel to find you. You were white and soaked in blood, the floorboards were stained around you. I thought Professor Dumbledore had been wrong, or that I’d been too slow, and that you were gone. But when I checked for a pulse, it was there, though it was feather light. I healed you as best as I could at the time.”

She stopped and leaned forward, putting her hand on Severus’ neck. He jerked, but she just stroked his skin softly.

“I could do much better now.” Severus leaned back and scowled at her, but she simply met his eyes with a calm look.

“Ms. Granger, it seems that I owe you a life debt,” Severus said.

“No, you don’t,” she replied calmly. “You see, when I healed you, the dittany and the phoenix tears did for the venom and the wounds. The Blood Replenishing potion I had wouldn’t have been enough by itself.”

Severus paled suddenly. “You bound us. Granger, you bound us by blood.”

Hermione took another draught of her drink, and wordlessly summoned two more. “I asked you to call me Hermione.”


**