Augury & Ardor

Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer. I don't even play one on television, so I've taken some liberties with the following courtroom scene(s). Please bear this in mind while reading the chapter. Come, suspend your disbelief for a few minutes, and enjoy the trial.

To those who review: I adore hearing from you. I only wish this site gave me the opportunity to reply to your comment individually as I did @ Ashwinder. No matter, though. . . I'll tell you now, a thousand thanks for taking the time to review - it means the world to me! :)

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The lobby was beyond full and Hermione, caught in the crush, was convinced the crowd gathering for the trial rivaled that of the Quidditch World Cup. Unlike the World Cup, however, there was very little division in the crowd’s desire of outcome. She’d overheard enough conversations to garner a consensus: Severus Snape was not a popular man.


Hermione checked her watch again, impatient for the proceedings to begin so she could find some relative peace in the courtroom. The crowd was not only oppressive in size, but in attitude as well. A censorious look from Professor McGonagall, standing to her right, stilled her fidgeting. To her left, Harry stood quietly, lost in thought. In front of her, Alastor Moody stood sentry, arms crossed, daring anyone to bother the small group.


“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked, reaching out to take his hand. “You’re not in pain or tired?”


Harry shook his head and gave her hand a squeeze. “Just reliving my own experience appearing before the Wizengamot, years ago. I don’t envy Snape having to sit through this. It’s a harrowing experience.”


Hermione studied Harry’s face with concern despite his assurances he was well and refrained from commenting on his disrespectful use of Severus’ name. Harry had faced and defeated Voldemort less than a week prior; she could let a few trivialities go in light of that. The fact that Harry had not only killed the Dark Lord, but did so in defense of her life gained him a few more reprieves from rebukes on that front.


It didn’t seem possible there were no casualties tied to Voldemort’s demise. It didn’t seem possible it could end without a huge, cataclysmic battle. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t stop worrying Harry had somehow been affected by the confrontation, despite his assertions to the contrary.


“It’ll all work out,” Harry said, misinterpreting her worried expression. “Once the truth is told, they’ll have to set him free.”


Hermione glanced around the Ministry’s lobby only to meet dozens of curious eyes. Realizing how she was feeding the newspaper speculation with her current actions, she released Harry’s hand and crossed her arms.


“Try not to let them bother you,” Harry said, observing the circling photographers as they moved closer.


“I just don’t want to give them more ammunition for their weapon,” Hermione muttered in disgust. “First they had Ron and I anxiously awaiting my divorce so we could run off to elope. Then, after the photograph that idiot Creevey shot the day I was at Hogwarts – he just had to be there that day, didn’t he -- it was Neville I was yearning for.” Despite all her worries, she met Harry’s eyes and shared a grin with him at the thought of she and Neville as a couple. The pop of a flash had her rounding on a reporter, eyes blazing. “Can’t you just leave us alone?”


“Ignore them,” Professor McGonagall sniffed.


“Take another one and see what happens,” Mad-Eye Moody growled in invitation. His good eye held a hopeful glint and he bared his teeth at the photographer in a frightening parody of a smile. Rather than test the Auror’s patience, the photographer backed away, lowering his camera to reveal a fearful expression.


Harry was used to the ceaseless attention after years of dealing with people’s curiosity. He was used to having complete strangers form judgments of his character and personality. He was used to being either adored or held in contempt by people he’d never met. For Hermione, it was too new to ignore and too frustrating to shrug off.


“Coming together probably wasn’t the best idea,” Harry remarked calmly, as if he hardly registered the stares and whispering. “Pairing you off with any and every eligible bachelor is keeping their papers selling. After last week, we might as well have begged them to pair us. We got off easy, if you ask me.” Harry grinned at the disgusted look on Hermione’s face. “It was a bit effusive, true.”


“I read the article and, at its core, it was accurate,” Professor McGonagall remarked. At Hermione’s disgusted snort, the older witch ticked off the pertinent points. “Harry escorted you to your parent’s home for a reconciliation visit. Voldemort’s people learned of the intended meeting and informed him. Voldemort appeared, demanded Sepharus, and you refused to hand him over. Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on you, but Harry jumped in front of it. Instead of killing Harry, the curse backfired, just as it did all those years ago when Harry was a baby, killing Voldemort. All factual.”


Harry’s mouth pulled into a small, fierce smile. “And with all the Horcruxes destroyed, this time he’s gone forever.”


“Yes, all that’s true,” Hermione replied impatiently, “but it’s the dross they mixed in with the facts that disgusts me.” She grimaced as she recited the article title from that morning’s paper, “‘The Boy Who Lived Would Die For Love’. They’re shameless.”


“You’d question my affection even now?” Harry asked with a grin.


“You know what I mean.” Hermione dismissed Harry’s attempt at humor with an exasperated smile. “They’ve made it sound as if we’re romantically linked. They’ve as much as said we’re to wed immediately following the trial and that you’ve already begun the preliminary legalities of adopting Sepharus.” When Harry merely chuckled, Hermione shot him a warning glance. “Laugh all you like, but for my sake, prove the article untrue. And speaking of that, here comes Ginny now. Don’t forget -- a public and unmistakable display of affection would go a long way in dispelling these ridiculous rumors.”


Harry blushed, but when Ginny picked her way through the crowd to meet them, Hermione wasn’t disappointed. It was Ginny rather than Harry, however, who took the initiative. Wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck, Ginny pulled him down for a kiss that left no question as to the nature of their relationship. This time when flashbulbs popped, Hermione grinned at the sound. When Ginny came up for air, she leaned in to hug her friend.


“All right, Hermione?”


“As well as can be expected,” Hermione replied with a bracing smile. She was nervous despite everyone’s assurance. “Was Sepharus good?”


“A darling, as always,” Ginny replied. “And happily playing with Tonks when I left them.”


A wizard across the lobby gestured and Alastor Moody nodded in return. “Finally!” he growled. “Come on; it’s time.” Following in his wake, the small group left the larger crowd behind and proceeded down through the Ministry to courtroom number thirteen.


While the courtroom was less crowded than the lobby, the gallery quickly filled to maximum capacity. Hermione once again felt on display, recognizing at least two of the faces nearby as reporters.


Noticing Hermione’s discomfort, Ginny ended her conversation with Harry and tried to divert her friend. “I understand a certain professor we all know and love will be attending, today.”


“Yes.” Hermione smiled even as Professor McGonagall sent them a quelling glare. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “I have to admit, I’m looking forward to the reaction.”


“I am too,” Ginny laughed. “If I could be two places at once, I’d be here and in the lobby, once the news reaches the crowd out there.”


“I would have liked to have been back in chambers when he arrived,” Hermione said. “I imagine their reaction is what’s causing the delay…”


As if summoned, the members of the Wizengamot slowly entered the courtroom in single file. All attending the proceedings rose, out of tradition and respect, to watch. It was a dignified and solemn procession, which brought a hush to the audience. Hermione leaned forward for a better view, forgetting the reporters, forgetting the curious stares, and waited for the appearance of the Chief Warlock.


The reaction was delayed. When Dumbledore entered, regal in his plum-colored robes, the silence was unbroken. Then, someone recognized the tall, white-haired wizard and gasped, “Dumbledore!” in a shocked whisper. Still, it was enough to cause a chain reaction of realization. Whispers of “Dumbledore” suddenly raced through the courtroom like wildfire until the gallery was ablaze with wonder. A reporter stood and raced from the room.


Hermione fought to suppress a smile. She’d spent too many months locked up with Albus Dumbledore not to recognize signs of amusement on the wizard’s face. He was thoroughly enjoying the stir.


When the Wizengamot took their seats, Dumbledore remained standing. He slowly scanned the courtroom, seemingly unfazed by the reaction of the crowd or the steady scratch of quills coming from the reporters’ seats. Despite the size of the audience, it seemed to each individual that the Head Wizard personally met and held his or her gaze a moment before moving on. A small, benign smile rode Dumbledore’s mouth and his blue eyes sparkled.


“Friends, distinguished guests and esteemed peers.” Dumbledore cast no discernable spells to be heard, but his mild voice carried to each corner of the room. By the end of his first sentence, every whisper, every murmur, every conversation had stilled. The courtroom was as silent as a crypt. “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”


He smiled, then continued conversationally, “You are no doubt wondering how it is I stand here before you today when every accounting you’ve heard has catalogued me as one of those fallen to Voldemort.” A ripple of gasps disturbed the calm of the gallery and Dumbledore smiled, wider. “There’s no further cause for alarm, my friends; Tom Riddle – self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort – is dead. His reign of terror is over, and soon his name will be little more than a troublesome tidbit your children are forced to remember for their History of Magic course.”


Dumbledore stood quietly, surveying the gallery as they mulled over his words. “There will be much celebrating soon – fêtes and balls and grand ceremonies to commemorate this victorious chapter in wizarding history -- but today, we gather for a most serious purpose. Today, we must turn our attention to the case of Severus Snape. During this case, I believe all your questions will be answered.”


Dumbledore gestured to the door through which he and his fellow members of the Wizengamot had entered. Through it, flanked by two guards and followed by a middle-aged wizard in barrister robes, strode Severus Snape.


While the courtroom swelled with a rumble and buzz of voices, Hermione swayed on her feet. She murmured, “I’m fine” as both Harry and McGonagall braced a hand at her back for support. Her words were far from true, however. She was anything but fine. Perhaps it was the closeness of the courtroom -- the press of bodies and the swell of voices -- but she felt faint at the sight of him.


He looked good -- not wholly himself, but far better than the last time she’d seen him. The lines that had been so deeply etched in his face weren’t as pronounced. It was apparent, though, he was indelibly marked by those months of suffering. He had yet to regain his prior weight, but his gait – his bearing – was unchanged.


She was holding her breath. Without realizing it, she’d drawn in air at his appearance and had forgotten to release it. Her heart was pounding so fiercely in her chest she felt everyone could hear it – that he would surely mark her presence in the room by the sound. With an explosive exhalation, she realized what she’d been waiting for -- the weight of his black gaze to settle on her – to be reflected in his eyes once more.


Her knees were shaking so badly, she sank to her chair. The rest of the courtroom followed closely behind as the trial commenced.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


It didn’t take a mind reader to realize how upset the prosecuting barrister were by Dumbledore’s reappearance. A half an hour into the proceedings, patches of red were still evident on Immundo Nothus’ neck and face. Hermione had never seen a person turn such a virulent shade as when the charges were read and Dumbledore had dismissed the murder and spying charges in a voice thick with amusement.


“My attendance here today, I hope, is proof enough that Professor Snape is not guilty of my murder,” Dumbledore had said, and smiled when the audience laughed in response. Once they had quieted, Dumbledore had finished in a more serious tone, “I have explained to the esteemed members of the Wizengamot that his continued association with Voldemort – his guise as a Death Eater – were all at my request. That his actions the night of the battle at Hogwarts were all a part of a necessary deception in the finer battle of subterfuge and espionage the war necessitated. While it’s true he has acted the spy for many years, it was on my orders and for the good of the wizarding world.”


Now, as Immundo Nothus shuffled through his paperwork, Hermione knew he was counting on her testimony alone to legitimize his case. She could almost feel sorry for the man. Almost.


When she was called to the stand, she made her way down the steps of the gallery to the courtroom below with care. Her legs were shaking and her heart raced. She wasn’t nervous about testifying; she was eager, in fact, to have her say. It was the prospect of being close to Severus again that had her flustered. When he looked at her, what would she see in his eyes?


Once seated in the witness box, Hermione lifted her eyes to look at him. To her disappointment, his head was turned and inclined toward his counsel as they held a whispered conversation. Rather than continue to stare at him, she met Immundo Nothus’ gaze and masked her disgust at his patronizing smile of concern.


“Would you state your name for the record?” he asked, his voice conveying the fact he felt she was, perhaps, too delicate to handle even that task.


“Hermione Jane Snape,” Hermione responded, briskly. A low buzz filled the courtroom and she squared her shoulders, keeping her gaze fixed on the barrister. She could tell by the blank look on his face that he hadn’t expected her to use her married name and bit back the sharp smile that wanted to jump to her lips.


Nothus cleared his throat, regained his composure and said, with what he no doubt thought was a supportive smile, “Under the circumstances, the court would recognize that you wished to be referred to as Ms. Granger. After all, it is true, is it not, that you were married under the influence of the Imperius Curse?”


“Yes, it is,” she answered. She was about to expound on his statement about which name she preferred, but he interrupted.


“Your parents – they’re Muggle, are they not?” Nothus asked.


“Yes.”


“In November of last year, the beginning of your seventh year at Hogwarts, you left the school to spend a weekend at home. Why was that?”


“My father was ill. He had developed pneumonia and my mother asked that I visit to help in any way I could.”


“Had you been home during the break between your sixth and seventh year?”


“No.”


“And why was that?”


“Professor McGonagall had requested all Muggle-born witches and wizards to stay at Hogwarts or with wizarding families.”


“Why did she request that?”


“Because of the attack at Hogwarts by Death Eaters.”


“I understand that Harry Potter suspected some nefarious act would be perpetrated the night of that battle. Is that true?”


“Yes, he did.”


“And he asked you and your friends to be prepared for it while he was gone?”


“Yes.”


“What were you meant to do that night?”


Hermione hesitated, but answered truthfully, “Luna Lovegood and I were to watch Professor Snape’s office.”


“Why was that?”


“At the time, Harry suspected Professor Snape of plotting something with Draco Malfoy.”


“Can you tell the court what happened while you were watching Professor Snape’s office?”


“Yes. Professor Flitwick ran into the office to warn Professor Snape that Death Eaters were in the castle. Luna and I heard a thump and then Professor Snape ran out. He saw us and said that Professor Flitwick had collapsed. While he ran off to fight, Luna and I went in to take care of Professor Flitwick.”


“Wasn’t it true that Professor Flitwick didn’t collapse, but in fact was Stupefied by Professor Snape in order for him to meet with those Death Eaters who--”


“Mr. Nothus,” Dumbledore interrupted almost gently. “The members of the Wizengamot are aware of Professor Snape’s actions on that night – are aware he was acting on my orders and are also aware that he did not, in fact, murder me as evidenced by my presence here.”


Laughter floated through the courtroom. For nearly a minute, Immundo Nothus adjusted his tie and flipped through his notes, clearly flustered. Then, clearing his throat, he looked back at Hermione. “On Sunday, the second of November, last year, you were at your parent’s home. Can you tell the court what happened that day?”


“In the afternoon, not long before I was to be escorted back to school, the doorbell rang. My mother had run out on an errand and my father was sleeping. I looked out and saw a man at the door. He was dressed in a police officer’s uniform and I thought something might have happened to my mother, so I went down and answered the door. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in Voldemort’s compound.”


Nothus smiled. “Did you recognize the man once you’d opened the door?”


“No.”

The barrister’s smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. “You were Stupefied before you saw him, then?”


“No. I saw his face,” Hermione clarified, “it just wasn’t anyone I recognized at the time.”


“Ms. Granger,” Nothus said, pinning her with a warning look, “Your parents stated that it was Severus Snape who kidnapped you.”


“My mother wasn’t there and my father was asleep,” Hermione replied, unflinching under his gaze. “They couldn’t have known who took me. I, however, was both there and awake when I answered the door.”


“You’re telling me that the man who took you from your parent’s house was not Professor Snape?” Nothus barked in vexation.


“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you.”


Another round of tie yanking commenced as the barrister fought to find his way back to his arguments. After a short pause, Nothus looked back up from his notes with a gleam in his eye. “When you woke at Voldemort’s compound, Professor Snape was there, was he not?”


“No,” Hermione replied, biting back another smile at the flash of fear in Nothus’ eyes. Then, she continued smoothly, “He arrived not long after, however.”


Nothus nodded as if he’d known this all along. “Could you tell the court what transpired from there?”


“Certainly. Crabbe and Goyle…that is, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were restraining me when Voldemort came back, this time with Professor Snape. Voldemort asked him some questions, talked about the prophecy that had prompted my abduction, and then offered me to him.”


Hermione kept her face an emotionless mask as gasps and whispering broke out in pockets of the gallery.


“What was Professor Snape’s reaction to this?” Nothus asked, clasping his hands behind his back and fixing her with a quizzical gaze.


“He seemed disinclined to accept the offer, but agreed to it as it was what Voldemort wanted.” She glanced through her eyelashes at Severus and was rewarded by his gaze on her, black and impenetrable.


Nothus frowned at her statement, but continued on the path of questioning he’d outlined during their meeting at the school. “Despite his alleged disinclination, he forced you to marry him, isn’t that true?”


“No, that’s not true,” Hermione replied. Nothus right eye twitched and she paused to fight the urge to laugh. “It was Voldemort who cast the Imperius Curse on me, not Professor Snape. It was Voldemort who forced me to speak the vows.”


“But…but,” Nothus stammered, rattled when she didn’t answer as he’d expected. “But he didn’t try to stop the ceremony, did he?” he finished, seemingly pleased with his save.


“If you were standing there beside the most powerful dark wizard of our age, surrounded by Death Eaters, would you?” Hermione asked.


She noticed that, while Nothus’ eyes bulged dangerously, the tic had, at least, disappeared. Still, she felt a mild concern the man might explode at any second. His color was alarming.


“Ms. Granger, isn’t it true that on that Sunday evening, after being forced to marry Severus Snape, he viciously raped you? That he not only raped you that night, but repeatedly, over the ten months you were his prisoner?” Nothus’ posture had turned aggressive, as if he were questioning one of the defense’s witnesses, and spittle flecked his lips as he barked his questions.


“No,” Hermione answered. Her quiet, composed answer was a startling counterpoint to Nothus’ savage tone. She paused a moment, her eyes boring into the prosecutor’s. He’d come to represent to her all those people who reviled Severus and she wanted them to know, finally, how she really felt. “Severus Snape did not rape me. We had sexual relations, but I was willing.”


The courtroom exploded with noise and a reporter running for the exit yelled, “Someone get me an owl!” It took a full five minutes for Dumbledore to get the gallery under some semblance of control, and only after casting a Sonorus spell and threatening to clear them from the courtroom if they couldn’t remain quiet. During that time, Hermione met and held Severus’ eyes.


She could tell he was upset; his mouth was set in a grim line and his eyes were blazing, but his expression, other than that, was unreadable. He only held her eyes briefly before he shot Dumbledore and McGonagall a hard look. Hermione sat up straighter and lifted her chin. So, he thought she was doing this under orders; she’d soon disabuse him of that idea.


The five minutes it took to regain order did nothing to calm Immundo Nothus. His eyes were still bulging and his face, while a less violent shade of red, was still blotched and angry looking. “Ms. Granger, do you really expect us to believe that after being forced to marry Severus Snape, thinking he was a Death Eater and the murderer of your beloved Headmaster, you willingly entered into a sexual relationship with him?”


“I can honestly say there wasn’t a time Severus touched me that I didn’t enjoy it,” Hermione stated simply, ignoring the parts of the question that would force her to answer with a less ambiguous answer.


“Ms. Granger, were you coached to answer in this manner by Albus Dumbledore in order to clear Professor Snape?” Nothus asked in an accusatory tone.


Despite Dumbledore’s warning, murmurs and whispers rose from the gallery.


“No, sir, I was not,” Hermione replied, able to answer that question in all honesty. Her voice was tart and disapproving enough to rival Minerva McGonagall’s when she finished, “Professor Dumbledore is too honorable a man for that.”


For the space of thirty seconds, Nothus paced before the witness box, glaring up at her like an enraged bear who had treed his prey. Hermione watched as his eyes finally lost their frantic inward cataloguing and gleamed with an idea. Turning to address the Wizengamot, Nothus crowed, “The prosecution would like to suggest that Severus Snape used Legilimency to influence Ms. Granger into believing she was participating in a so-called willing sexual relationship.”


Hermione shot to her feet. “If it would help contradict Mr. Nothus’ allegations, I’m willing for the Wizengamot to view an encounter between myself and Severus in the Pensieve.”


“Absolutely not!”


Snape’s outraged shout was the undoing of the courtroom. Unable to contain themselves, the audience once again filled the room with the agitated swell of voices.


“Sit down, Severus. You too, Hermione,” Dumbledore sighed once he’d cast a Silencing Charm on the gallery. When they’d both resumed their seats, Professor Dumbledore glanced over at Hermione with a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation. “While the Wizengamot appreciates your offer, it won’t be necessary.” Turning his gaze on Immundo Nothus, the older wizard’s eyes lost their sparkle. “Mr. Nothus knows, as does the rest of the wizarding world, that Legilimency cannot influence a person’s feelings or memories, merely tap into them.”


Although Dumbledore had effectively silenced the gallery, whisperings and murmurings could still be heard in the room. A discussion between the members of the Wizengamot, however, did not alarm the Chief Warlock. Dumbledore turned his back to the barristers and joined in a whispered conversation with the three wizards next to him.


After a few minutes of discussion and head nodding, he turned back and gazed down into the witness box. “Ms. Granger, are we to understand from your testimony that you don’t wish to press charges against Professor Snape?”


“That’s correct,” Hermione replied.


She thought she saw him wink, but shook her head at the notion as he struck his gavel against the bench and declared the case dismissed.